“What’s your idea?” asked Roderick. But the Major waited in silence.
At last Grant’s face lighted up.
“Yes, by jingo,” he cried, “that may be their plan. If they can get over the range on to the Ferris-Haggerty road they may make Rawlins by the western route. That’s why they may have gone up the canyon instead of returning by the cave. For they came in by the cave; it is you they followed yesterday, Major, into the valley. The tracks show that.”
“I have already satisfied myself on that point,” replied Buell Hampton. “I have no doubt, since we balked Bledsoe in his previous attempt, that he has been on my tracks ever since, determined to find out where I got the rich ore. But it surprises me that a man in Grady’s position should have descended to be the associate of such a notorious highwayman.”
“Oh, moral turpitude makes strange bedfellows,” said Grant, pointing to the depressions where the two claim-jumpers had slept “But there is no use in indulging in conjectures at the present time. I’ve a proposal to make.”
“Let us hear it,” said the Major.
“Luckily I brought my skis with me, strapped to one of the burros. Didn’t know when they might come handy amid all this snow. Well, I’ll go back to the hut, and I’ll cut across the range, and will intercept these damned robbers, if that’s their game, to a certainty.”
“Rather risky,” remarked Buell Hampton. “Feels like more snow.” And he sniffed the ambient air.
“Oh, I’ll be all right. And you’ve got to take risks too. I’ll give Roderick my rifle, Major, and you take your own. You can follow the trail of these men, and if they have got out of the canyon, then you can get out the same way too. If so, we’ll all meet on the range above. Roderick, you know where the Dillon Trail crosses the Ferris-Haggerty Road?”
Roderick nodded assent.