“We’ve got a warm trail,” Harshaw said to Blister Haines. “We better go right after ’em.”
“Hot foot,” agreed Blister.
“Major Sheahan’s followin’ them now. He said for you to come right along.”
The cavalcade moved at once.
CHAPTER XXXI
“DON’T YOU LIKE ME ANY MORE?”
Harshaw’s rangers caught up with the militia an hour later. The valley men were big, tanned, outdoor fellows, whereas the militia company was composed of young lads from Colorado towns, most of them slight and not yet fully developed. The state troopers were, however, brisk, alert, and soldierly. Some of them were not used to riding, but they made the best of it with the cheerful adaptability of American youth.
The trail of the Indians cut back across the mesa toward Utah. Evidently they were making for their home country again. Bob began to hope that the Utes would reach the reservation without a fight. In this desire the owner of the Slash Lazy D heartily joined. He had no impulses toward the slaughter of the tribal remnants.