“Which way, Cody?” asked the major of the post.
“Southward on a scout, major,” was Buffalo Bill’s reply, and, saluting, he rode to the head of the line, and gave the order to march.
The scouts obeyed, following in two files, Texas Jack at the head of one, Winfield leading the other, while two men brought up the rear, to keep the pack-mules closed up.
That the band of wild riders were curious about their going, was certain; but not a hint came from their chief, and not a man dared to question him.
The start had been made after dinner, and after a ride of twenty-five miles a halt was made for the night.
The next day forty miles were placed behind them, and the scouts knew that the chief had started upon a long journey.
So it went on for day after day, from forty to fifty miles being made, the cattle being well cared for, with long noonday halts, until the chief of scouts bore toward the right, into a land that was unknown to his followers.
“We will leave Santa Fe well to our left,” said Texas Jack to Winfield one day.
“Yes, but why does not the chief give us a hint of where we are going?”