Martin scanned the party cautiously, but could perceive no traces of Edith. They in turn, looking back and perceiving that they were observed by the white men, halted a moment, and, drawn up on the hillside slope, made gestures of challenge and menace. When they saw no movement was made in response, they moved off again in single file. Their boldness seemed strange, yet it must be remembered that it was at night, and it was only a plunge from hillside to ravine and they would be invisible. They were shrewd enough to be able to know of their comparative safety.
There seemed to be little danger, now, in attempting to unravel the thread of the trail which led into the timber. Several men were dispatched upon this errand, while others pushed still further on to find their point of exit. When at length it was found and inspected, a singular sensation was effected. The party of whom they were in pursuit had evidently affiliated with a few others and taken part in the ambuscade; and after the dash past them of the white men, all had made good their retreat to this point, near which their horses had been tethered; and, as the seven men they had seen were evidently identical with the men of the ambush, the question arose: "Where was Edith Van Payne?"
That question arose—and almost immediately received its answer. Martin, once more bringing his judgment into play, saw in a moment they had been tricked. Now, when he once was aware of it, he could trace out how, as well as Blaze had done in the early part of the chase. He reasoned and thought and knit his brows, and his face grew black. Without doubt he knew now that he should have followed the other trail, and knew, too, in what direction it tended, what spot aimed at. He was almost as wise as Blaze himself as regarded the lay of the land in a circle of some hundred miles.
Now, having thrown away the enthusiasm of the first rush of the pursuit, there was only one course left, and that a disheartening one—to acknowledge the error, and attempt to repair it as soon as possible. There was one little gleam of sunshine for him. It seemed more than likely that Winkle and two other men had followed the right trail. The possibility that Endicott and his men had done the same was a problem to be thought over. Should such a supposition be verified, it was hard to tell what would be the feelings awakened. Upon the whole, it is possible that Martin would about as lief have his niece in the hands of her present captors as in those of Charles Endicott.
"No use talking, boys, we've been fooled, and we must make the best of it. We took the wrong trail. Now, which of you feels dead certain that he knows in what direction Straight and Crooked Cañons lay, and the straight road to them, for by the holies, that's where we've got to bend for now."
At this, though the faces of more than one of the party fell, there was no lack of men to offer their needed knowledge. Nor was there any serious disagreement in the statements regarding the direction of the specified locality. Drawn up in a little circle, the direction, distance, and lay of the intervening ground, were discussed, and a plan of procedure mapped out. As the wounded men were not seriously hurt, two of them gave remounts to those who had lost their horses, and, in company with the third, started to return to Martin's ranche. The remainder, having looked well to their arms, pushed off at a regular gallop in the new direction.
CHAPTER IX.
THE BIVOUAC IN CROOKED CANON.
"Nary time, old man. There ain't a cussed bit o' danger here—no, not nary a half a primin'. Camp right down an' bunk in peace and quietness. My narves is steady, an' thar ain't no eitchin' in the forefinger o' my right hand. A man in skirty-coats would be safe here, ef he'd nothin' better than a double-barreled shot-gun with no hind-sights."