Getting down upon the plain again, we turned southward, skirting the base of the mountain, winding our way through the sage-brush, which was large and very thick, when, after riding barely a quarter of a mile in that direction, Dick suddenly pulled up.
"Frank!" he exclaimed. "Look here! Doesn't it seem to you that there is a depression in the soil going off to the right and the left? Look away a hundred yards and you will see what I mean. It seems to lead straight up into the mountain one way, and straight out upon the plain the other way."
At first I could not detect anything of the sort, but on Dick's pointing it out more particularly it did appear to me that there was a depression going off in both directions.
"Let us turn to the left, Dick," said I, "and follow it—if we can—out into the valley and see what becomes of it."
"All right," responded my companion. "Let's do so."
The mark on the ground was by no means easy to follow, it was so overgrown with sage-brush, and in many places altogether obliterated by drifting sand, but, though we frequently lost it, by looking far ahead we always caught the line again. Presently we found that it went curving off to the right in the direction of Hermanos, and our hopes rose.
"Dick!" I cried. "This is no accidental mark in the soil! It is a trail, as sure as you live!"
"It does begin to look like it," replied my more cautious friend. "I believe it—— Hallo! Who's this coming?"
As he spoke, I saw about half a mile away a horseman coming toward us at an easy lope from the direction of the village. He was riding a handsome gray horse, very superior to the little bronchos we ourselves bestrode.
"He rides well," said I. "I wonder how he got so close to us on this flat country without our seeing him."