The small hoofs of the horse, and the fact that it was unshod, told that it was an Indian pony; while the depth to which its hoofs had sunk in the sand indicated that it carried a heavy burden. While the two scouts were making these discoveries and discussing them they came upon a shining bit of metal lying in the sand. Of the shape and size of a twenty-dollar gold piece, it was not so round. One side, perfectly flat, showed hammer marks, while on the other side was the rayed image of the sun. The workmanship was Indian, without a doubt. “Indian money?” said Wild Bill, as they looked at it. “More likely an Indian ornament. Or it may be some sacred emblem. There are sun-worshiping tribes down here in the Southwest, you know; and I don’t doubt these mysterious Toltecs we’re trying so hard to visit have got a lot of sun-worship practices and traditions. So, this has a meaning for us.” “Yes?” “This pony was ridden by an Indian, and the rider dropped this bit of metal.” “It’s pure gold, I think.” He bit it, and tested it by ringing it against the barrel of his rifle. “It’s gold, all right, Cody. Maybe the pony was loaded up with gold like it, judging by the way he sank into the sand here. And perhaps old Giant Foot was chasing after the Indian, to get some of the gold.” Buffalo Bill understood that his pard was making wild and half-humorous guesses, in lieu of something tangible to hit upon. “Well, Hickok, we’ve made a beginning,” he said, with immense satisfaction; “and now we’ll turn back and get something to eat, and talk the thing over while getting ready for another start. These trails go straight toward the notch in the mountain there; we can see that from here.” “And they were made last night.” “Or early this morning.” “But this doesn’t tell us anything about Conover, Pard Cody; what of him? Why did he make a sneak like that out of our camp?” That was not easily answered. The two pards met Nick Nomad at the edge of the sand, where the old trapper had halted and dismounted. “What yer goin’ ter do now?” was his querulous inquiry. “We’ve found some trails that we’re going to follow, Nomad, as soon as we’ve had some breakfast,” Buffalo Bill informed him. “It isn’t healthy to begin a hard day’s work on an empty stomach, so you may open that war bag, while I start a fire here, and we’ll boil some coffee and have something to eat.” Wild Bill, looking across the slope of the hills, saw the four Indians bunched together and staring down at the party of whites. He waved to them, and Little Cayuse started down the slope reluctantly. When Little Cayuse was halfway down, the three Apaches began to follow him, coming along in single file. “Just let them alone—pay no attention to them,” Buffalo Bill advised Hickok. “They’re no good right now, but we can work this thing out without them, and they’ll trail along behind us rather than be left.”