We were told by Lute Spencer that they had paused at Bob Thorn's cabin by the way. He was more generally known by his intimates and associates as Dirty Bob. "The place war gutted, as you say yours war," continued Lute, "and Bob war nowhere." "The red devils had been there," added Dorsey. "We counted the tracks of some ten of them." Fatigued as I was, I at once proposed starting for Bob's cabin. The memory I have already alluded to, gave me a sharp twinge of commiseration for any unlucky fellow who might be treated to a similar phase of personal experience. CHAPTER XI. LOTS OF PLUCK--ONE OF THE RANGERS KILLED--THINKING OF A BROTHER--TAKING A GOOD POSITION--LOSS OF HAIR, AND WHAT THE RED-SKINS THINK OF IT--"CAPTAIN JACK'S" OR THE MODOC COUNTRY--"CAPTAIN JACK'S" STRONGHOLD--ON OUR WAY BACK--SIGNAL-FIRES AND SOME STRATEGY--HALF A HUNDRED SCALPS FOR ONE--THE PAH-UTES ON THE WARPATH--FISHING FOR THE DEAD--THE WHITE FLAG--WASHO BRAVERY. Bob's location was at some thirty miles' distance from my cabin, and we arrived there, shortly after the dazzling rays of the morning sun were blindingly increased in strength by the reflection from the snow. Spencer and Dorsey had told us the bare fact. Butch', however, had a keener nose than they apparently possessed. "Dirty Bob fit well for it," he said, after glancing through the cabin. "Some of the red skunks war hurt, and no mistake. He al'ays had lots o' pluck." He was unmistakably right. There were marks of blood on the hard soil of the floor. But, whether the soaked in and dead crimson had once run in his veins or those of his Indian enemies, remained to be seen. We almost at once struck their trail, which led through the forest, beyond the spot he had selected for his hunting-ground. This we followed, for something more than six miles. The track was by no means an easy one, rising and falling, broken up by rocks and intersected with the stumps of fallen trees. In short, it was one which none of the delicate nurslings of city civilization would have cared about following, even for the purpose of pulling trigger at their first live venison, and, of necessity, missing it. Arnold and Painter were in advance. The fatigue of the past two days and night had kept me somewhat in the rear of the party, with Butch' and "Fatty." Painter uttered a savage oath.