“I have reason to believe they were the same,” said Carlos, still bending over the hoof-prints, “and this may be their trail.”
“Think you so?” inquired Don Juan.
“I do.—See—there! Is this not strange?”
The speaker pointed to the dog, who, meanwhile, had returned to the spot, and stood whimpering, and showing an evident desire to proceed by the trace newly discovered!
“Very strange,” replied Don Juan. “He must have travelled it before!”
“Perhaps so,” said Carlos. “But it will not spoil by an hour’s keeping. Let us first see where these valiant troopers have been to. I want to know that before I leave this main path. Let us on, and briskly!”
All spurred their animals into a gentle gallop, the cibolero leading as before. As before, also, his eyes swept the ground on both sides in search of any trail that might diverge from that on which they travelled.
Now and then cross paths appeared, but these were old. No horses had passed recently upon them, and he did not slacken his pace to examine them.
After a twenty minutes’ gallop the party halted upon the bank of the Pecos, at the ford. It was plain that the troopers had also halted there, and turned back without crossing! But cattle had crossed two days before—so said the cibolero—and mounted drivers. The tracks of both were visible in the mud. Carlos rode through the shallow water to examine the other side. At a glance he saw that no troops had crossed, but some forty or fifty head of cattle.
After a long and careful examination, not only of the muddy bank, but of the plain above, he beckoned to Don Juan and the rest to ford the stream and join him.