"Scented us," asserted Jennings, positively, answering the last question first. "I told you a good woodsman or an Injun can always scent a man—and Red Rogers can give any Injun or woodsman cards and spades and then beat him at his own game. As to why he took our ponies, he probably wanted 'em."
"I have it!" cried Shaw, slapping his thigh. "I'll bet Red has just broken jail. He's probably hiking it to his old hiding place, and, coming across our ponies, helped himself."
"But they're army horses. They'll be recognized by any one who sees 'em," objected the youngster.
"Little Red cares," returned Shaw. "Possession is no nine-tenths, it's the whole law to him—and he's quick enough with his gun to defend anything he decides is his."
"I suppose we ought to be thankful Red didn't need shooting irons, or he'd probably have helped himself to our rifles," exclaimed Jennings, as they found their weapons and blankets undisturbed.
"Oh, cut it out," retorted Shaw. "We'll have to stand enough joshing from the boys at the Fort, without your trying to get funny.
"Scotty, start a fire and put on the coffee pot—there's enough water in it."
And, while the youngster obeyed, the others rolled up their blankets.
"What are you going to do with the saddles and bridles?" asked Scotty, as he joined them.
"Leave 'em in the cave yonder, so's they'll be waiting when we get our horses back," declared Shaw, picking up his own and carrying it to a crevice in the rocks, some ten feet away, into which, after a short examination, he placed the now useless accoutrements.