Away went the red mustang, and if any Indians had followed him, they would have lost the race.
Chapter XXXVIII.
HOW THEY ALL REACHED SANTA LUCIA.
A band of Indians who are in a great hurry travel rapidly, even if now and then they leave a worn-out pony behind them. They are also pretty sure to take short cuts and to save distances, and that was more than Cal Evans was able to do.
The Chiricahua scouts with Captain Moore knew every inch of the country, and did not permit the cavalry and cowboys to do any needless travelling.
Late in the forenoon of the third day after Ping's first and last ride upon the "heap pony," all was serenely quiet at Santa Lucia. It was too quiet, altogether, because its inmates were in such blue anxiety that they did not feel like doing anything. Reading was impossible, and any effort at conversation did but repeat the regret that there was no news from Cal or his father. The failure of everything else accounted for the fact that at this hour Vic and her mother were upon the roof, sweeping the horizon with the field-glass.
Suddenly Mrs. Evans held out the glass, exclaiming: "Look! Vic! Cavalry!"
"Oh!" shouted Vic, and in a moment more they were hurrying down and out of the hacienda.