"Sergeant, tell the signal man to flash his heliograph and say we've located Rogers," he commanded. "Alkali, pick up Jennings' trail."
And as the men obeyed, he drew forth his field glasses and swept the mountainside.
Stung by the lieutenant's taunts and the troopers' glee, the half-breed employed his woodcraft to the best of his ability, and in less than ten minutes returned to the boulder, announcing that he had found the trail.
Surprised, but delighted at such quick work, the young officer gave the command to advance and the troopers, elated to think that they had a chance at the prize money after all, took up the trail eagerly.
But the going was rough and the trail tortuous.
At the end of three hours' toilsome climbing, the troopers were rewarded by a shout from Alkali, who was pointing excitedly to the plateau where the outlaw had come so near death at the hands of the brave scout.
Quickly the lieutenant focussed his glasses upon the shelf of rock.
"It's horses! Yes, cavalry horses!" he exclaimed, excitedly.
"Boys, give 'em a few shots. We may be able to scare 'em out."
And how well the troopers succeeded, the reader already knows.