CHAPTER XXVI
CUTTING SIGN
Dud’s observation, when he and Bob took the back trail along the river to find the missing bronco, confirmed that of Buck Hawks. He found the place where a horse had clawed its way out of the stream to the clay bank. From here it had wandered into the sage and turned toward the home ranch. The tracks showed that Powder River was moving slowly, grazing as it went.
“I reckon by noon we can say ‘Hello!’ to yore bronc,” Dud prophesied. “No need to trail it. All we got to do is follow the river.”
An hour later he drew up and swung from the saddle. “Now I wonder who we’ve had with us this glad mawnin’.”
Dud stooped and examined carefully tracks in the mud. Bob joined him.
“Powder River ain’t so lonesome now. Met up with friends, looks like. Takin’ a li’l’ journey north.” The cowpuncher’s blue eyes sparkled. The prosaic pursuit of a stray mount had of a sudden become Adventure.
“You mean—?”
“What do you read from this sign we’ve cut?”