From that fact they had reached the conclusion that the reason the pony tracks sank deep into the sandy places was because the animal carried double—bore Toltec Tom and whoever it was who had come to his assistance. Who was that person? They could not guess, unless it was the Red Feather who had stolen away the child from the town of Skyline, and had dropped the silver earring in the trail close by the knoll at Morgan’s. If true, the same person had dropped the sun-stamped gold piece. That person, they had argued, was an Indian; and what they had seen the previous day indicated it was an Indian woman. But had an Indian woman, the stealer of the child, also stolen or enticed Toltec Tom to leave the camp in that mysterious manner during the watches of the night? Here was a puzzle. Buffalo Bill admitted that its explanation rested in the future. All they could do now was to go on as they had been doing and see what would come to pass. One of the things which developed was of a character to again frighten the Indians and cause Nomad to talk once more of the whiskizoos. The vulture seen previously, or another similar bird, was observed to hover over the trail some distance before them, and then close its wings and drop, like a hawk descending on a rabbit. The Indians went on, even after that; but when they came to the spot where the vulture had hovered and shot downward, and discovered at that spot, or near it, singular bird tracks in the sand, they were thrown into a panic. “The devil bird!” said Chappo, speaking to his companions in their own language. He stood up, wild-eyed, and repeated it to Little Cayuse in broken English, the other Apaches, grouped by him, shaking with renewed terror. Little Cayuse seemed almost as much moved. Buffalo Bill rode forward and looked at the track of the “devil bird.” There is the sand, close by the pony trail, where the marks of an immense claw of a bird, at least a yard in diameter. Yet the keen-eyed scout soon saw that, while a clever imitation, it had not been made by a bird, but by human fingers tracing it in the sand for a purpose. That purpose, of course, was to frighten the Indian trailers. Which showed, also, that either the rider of the pony or the man who made the gigantic steps knew Indian trailers were following. Buffalo Bill pointed this out to Little Cayuse and the Apaches, and argued the thing with them. But the Apaches only looked at him stolidly now; they refused to go on again. “Yer remembers thet story o’ Quicksilver John,” said Nomad, “and how a big eagle come an’ knocked him off ther cliff aidge down inter ther town of them queer Toltecs. I opine this is ther track o’ thet identickel eagle; and it war thet we saw in sky hyar, ’stead of a vulture.” “Thunder, and carry one!” exploded Wild Bill. “Nomad, you old weenywurst, you’re as bad as the Apaches.”