“Down it. See. The wheel-tracks bear to the left. And if you want evidence that he came down in the dark, here you are. Look how one wheel skidded over this half-buried, water-worn boulder and slid off and scraped the spokes against this projecting rock. Look at the blue paint it left on the rock.”
“Blue paint!”I cried. “Joe, Yetmore’s cart was painted blue! I remember it very well. A very strongly-built cart, as it had to be to scramble up those rough roads that lead to the mines, painted blue with black trimmings. Joe, I begin to believe this is the ore-thief, after all.”
“It does look like it. But where was he going? Not down to the smelter at San Remo, surely.”
“Not he,”I replied. “He would know better than that. The smelter has undoubtedly been notified of the robbery by this time, and the character of the Pelican tellurium is so well known that any one offering any of it for sale would have to give a very clear story as to how he came by it. No; this fellow will have to hide or bury the ore and leave it lying till he thinks the robbery is forgotten; and even then he will probably have to dispose of it at a distance in small lots or broken up very fine and mixed with other ore.”
“In that case,”said Joe, “we shall find his trail leaving the road again on one side or the other.”
“I expect so. We’ll keep a lookout. But come on, now, Joe: we mustn’t delay any longer.”
The road had been traveled over by several vehicles since last night, and the trail of the cart was undistinguishable with any certainty until we had passed the point where the highway branched off to the right to go down to San Remo; after which it appeared again, apparently headed straight for the ranch.
“Do you suppose he can have crossed our valley, Phil?”asked my companion.
“No, I expect not,”I replied. “Keep your eyes open; we shall find the tracks going off to one side or the other pretty soon—to the left most likely, for the best hiding-places would be up in the mountains.”