After traveling slowly for a mile, the Indian stopped, straightened himself, and looked knowingly at the king of scouts.
Buffalo Bill rode forward and asked: “What is it, Panecho?”
“Sacks on feet; heap smart trick, ugh!”
The grunt of contempt caused the scout to smile.
“Meant to fool the ordinary white man, but it doesn’t fool you, eh?”
The Indian nodded. He had been following a very faint trail made by two horses whose feet had been muffled.
“Bimeby sacks come off,” Panecho said. “Then we go fast.”
On the trailer went, and late in the afternoon reached a spur of the Hualapi Mountains. Ten minutes later the Indian held up his hand. He had lost the trail.
Colonel Hayden uttered a sigh of acute disappointment. Buffalo Bill looked at the officer, half in contempt, half in pity.
“Lost for the moment,” he said; “but Panecho will soon pick it up again, or I’ll miss my guess.”