“All right—this-away!” set off along the road.
I was curious to know how he had determined the point, and questioned him.
“Wal, yur see, young fellur, it ur the trail o’ a Mexikin cart; an’ anybody as iver seed thet ur vamint, knows it hez got only two wheels. But thur are four tracks hyur, an’ thurfor the cart must a gone back an’ fo’th, for I seed they wur the same set o’ wheels. Now, ’tur raizonable to s’pose thet the back-track leads to the settlements, an’ thet’s thisaway.”
“But how could you tell which was the back-track?”
“Wagh! thet ur easy as fallin’ off a log. The back track ur the fresher by more’n a kupple o’ hours.”
Pondering upon the singular “instinct” that enabled our guide to distinguish the tracks, I rode on in silence.
Shortly after, I again heard the voice of Rube, who was some paces in the advance.
“I kud a knowd the way,” he said, “’ithout the wheel-tracks: they only made things more sartint sure.”
“How?” I asked. “What other clue had you?”
“The water,” replied he; “’ee see, or ’ee mout, ef you’d a looked into the tracks, thet it ur runnin’ this-away. Do ee hear thet thur?”