“Roy said thet same. Wal, it's some three hours till sundown. The hosses keep up. I reckon I'm fooled, for we'll make Pine all right. But old Tom there, he's tired or lazy.”
The big cougar was lying down, panting, and his half-shut eyes were on Dale.
“Tom's only lazy an' fat. He could travel at this gait for a week. But let's rest a half-hour an' watch that smoke before movin' on. We can make Pine before sundown.”
When travel had been resumed, half-way down the slope Dale's sharp eyes caught a broad track where shod horses had passed, climbing in a long slant toward the promontory. He dismounted to examine it, and John, coming up, proceeded with alacrity to get off and do likewise. Dale made his deductions, after which he stood in a brown study beside his horse, waiting for John.
“Wal, what 'd you make of these here tracks?” asked that worthy.
“Some horses an' a pony went along here yesterday, an' to-day a single horse made, that fresh track.”
“Wal, Milt, for a hunter you ain't so bad at hoss tracks,” observed John, “But how many hosses went yesterday?”
“I couldn't make out—several—maybe four or five.”
“Six hosses an' a colt or little mustang, unshod, to be strict-correct. Wal, supposin' they did. What 's it mean to us?”
“I don't know as I'd thought anythin' unusual, if it hadn't been for that smoke we saw off the rim, an' then this here fresh track made along to-day. Looks queer to me.”