But Blaze paid but little attention to his query.
"What a gaul-blasted fool this hyar old hoss are. Tuk right in the fust pop by a bit o' baby-play. Can't yer see? That gal couldn't a-tore them bits off o' her dress. It stan's to reason not, sure. Why, cuss 'em, thar's two Injuns ridin' double here, dead shot. I thort it was too soft a thing. That led hoss in t'other party is the one ez has the gal on. Jist seen it in time. I'd gamble high thar's ez purty a leetle hornets' nest a-hangin' under the fust bit o' timber we'd come to, ez you'll find frum hyar to the Big Red."
How this suggestion was received may well be imagined.
"What are we to do then?" queried Harry. "Must we go all the way back and start fresh on the other trail?"
"Wal, not quite that bad; but, somewheres blamed nigh. Change my hind-sights, ef they ain't a-strikin' fur Crooked Cañon, full drive—we're goin', from the taste I've had of the hosses, to be jist a leetle too late to see 'em git under kiver."
"You think we can find them yet, though?"
"Think! I know it. Thar ain't no trouble about that; thar's only two trails, an' like a blarsted green purp I've bin a-barkin' up the wrong one."
"Then the sooner we look for the right one, the better."
"That's so, only it's provokin' to hev bin losin' all this time. Come on now, an ef ever an arrer went straight—an' the copper-skins kin sling 'em nasty, I kin take yer to the spot whar they're headin' fur to-night. I've bin ham-strung an' sot down on, which ain't very lively fur the boys!"
Without more hesitation or further parley, Blaze turned to the left and led off at a rate which he judged best suited to continued effort. Not for a long time did he utter a word. But when the silence had begun to be monotonous, he broke it by bringing his hand down with violence upon his thigh, exclaiming: