And, with this statement, so sinister in its significance, the desperado resumed the descent of the trail.
When Pedro's powerful hand had choked off Shaw's attempt to hail his comrades from the Fort, he had expected death would be the penalty for his failure. Accordingly, when he found that the only consequence was the increased discomfiture to himself and fellows occasioned by the gags, he fell to wondering more than ever as to the use Red Rogers intended to make of them.
But he was soon to learn.
Instead of following a straight course to the foot of the mountain, the outlaw zigzagged back and forth, sending his horse across stretches of rock, whenever they cropped from the earth, that his trail might suddenly stop, causing the manhunters following it delay and difficulty in picking it up again.
At last, however, just as twilight came upon the land, the cavalcade rode out upon the level at the base of the foothills.
But, to the amazement of the scouts, they were in a region of the "Bad Lands" never before seen by them.
For several minutes the notorious desperado watched the expressions on the faces of his prisoners as they vainly sought some familiar landmark that would give them an inkling as to their whereabouts.
"If I had time, I'd make a map of these hills and send it to the commandant at Griswold," he chuckled. "It's beyond reason to expect a Mounted Scout or any other soldier to catch a man in a country he don't know anything about.
"But you'd be more surprised than you are now if you knew how close to Griswold you were. I could get there and back in ten hours."
"Careful, Red," cautioned Rose. "Don't boast."