"Tom! Tom! Come here! Queeck!" shouted the half-breed.
"Say!" snorted Doubleday. "What is this, anyway? Do you fellers know there's some Injuns up here a piece?"
But Loudon had joined Telescope and neither of the two gave the slightest heed to the outraged Doubleday.
"Look!" exclaimed Laguerre, as the tail of the column passed. "Look! Yore hoss she come out o' de wood here! See!"
"My hoss! You mean Ranger?" Loudon stared, thunderstruck, at the hoofmarks of two horses.
"Yore hoss, Ranger! Ah, once I see de hoss-track I know heem again! Las' tam you shoe de hoss you shoe heem all 'roun'. Dees ees hees track. No man was ride heem. She was de led hoss. Feller ride odder hoss. See! Dey come out de wood un go dees way."
Telescope waved a hand over the way they had come.
"How old are the tracks?" queried Loudon, breathlessly.
"Mabbeso four day. No use follow dem. We lose 'em on de hard groun'."
"Telescope, I got an idea somethin's wrong. I dunno what, but these tracks comin' in here thisaway, an' that fellah with the Injun story—I guess now they hitch somehow. I tell yuh I dunno how"—as Telescope opened his mouth to speak—"an' I may be wrong, but I'm goin' back after that party from Hatchet Creek."