Hopalong waited until they swept up along the fresh trail before he replied and the reply was characteristic of him. "Pushin’ th’ gray hard, Tex. Them toe prints are purty deep—an’ d—d if th’ gray ain’t havin’ trouble with his bad laig! See that off fore hoofmark? See how it ain’t as deep as its mate? Th’ gray’s favorin’ that laig, an’ only for one reason: it hurts him more when he don’t. Move away a little, Tex; don’t do no good to be bunched so close where there ’s so much cover. He ain’t a long way off, judgin’ from them tracks. We don’t know that he ain’t doubled back to pick us off as we near him." Tex tightened his knee-grip and rowelled his spurs lightly along the side of his mount, darting ahead with Hopalong speeding up to catch him. It was a test to see how the horses were holding up and when the animals took up the new speed and held it with plenty of reserve strength, the two men let them go. As they shot down a rough, sloping trail to a shallow creek, flowing noisily along the bottom of a wild arroyo, Hopalong looked ahead eagerly and called to Tex to slow down to a walk. Tex, surprised, obeyed and took the reins of the bay as Hopalong went ahead to cross the stream on foot. But Tex’s surprise was only momentary; he quickly understood the reason for the play and he warmed to his sagacious friend while he admired his skill. Hopalong waded the stream and looked carefully around on both side of the tracks where they left the water. Motioning Tex to come ahead, he grinned as the other obeyed. "Did n’t want to splash no fresh water around here till I saw if th’ water Dave splashed was all soaked up. It is; but th’ spots is moist. An’ another thing: see th’ prints o’ that hoof where he takes up an’ sets down—where is he lame?" "Shoulder," replied Tex with instant decision. "Shore is. An’ he ’s been a-gettin’ lamer every step. Bet he ain’t an hour ahead, Tex." "Won’t take you—an’ he ’ll be above us all th’ way till we cross th’ top of th’ range, so we better keep under cover as much as we can," Tex replied. "We ’ve trailed worse men than Dave, a whole lot worse, an’ far better shots; but he ain’t really due to miss twice in two days. Th’ Pass ain’t so far ahead now—there it is, with th’ blasted pine stickin’ up like a flag-pole. Half an hour more an’ we ’ll be in it."