They made a wide circle to try to pick up the trail wanted, and again a still larger one. Both of these attempts failed.
"Looks to me like they flew away," the cattleman said at last. "Horses have got hoofs and hoofs make tracks. I see plenty of these, but I don't find any place where the animals waited while this thing was bein' pulled off."
"The sheriff's posse has milled over the whole ground so thoroughly we can't be sure. But there's a point in what you say. Maybe they left their horses farther up the hill and walked back to them," Dave hazarded.
"No-o, son. This job was planned careful. Now the hold-ups didn't know whether they'd have to make a quick getaway or not. They would have their horses handy, but out of sight."
"Why not in the dry ditch back of the cotton woods?" asked Dave with a flash of light.
Crawford stared at him, but at last shook his head, "I reckon not. In the sand and clay there the hoofs would show too plain."
"What if the hold-ups knew the ditch was going to be filled before the pursuit got started?"
"You mean—?"
"I mean they might have arranged to have the water turned into the lateral to wipe out their tracks."
"I'll be dawged if you ain't on a warm trail, son," murmured Crawford. "And if they knew that, why wouldn't they ride either up or down the ditch and leave no tracks a-tall?"