Soon afterward the other pursuers returned. They had failed to trace the abductor. Colonel Hayden obtained leave of absence from the government, had Buffalo Bill detailed to assist him, and a month after the abduction they stood on the edge of the Colorado desert, the king of scouts having picked up the trail the cowboys had lost, and followed it to the desert. Here the services of the Hualapi had been secured on the strong recommendation of Buffalo Bill. It was early morning when the little party, with the Indian in the lead, took their way across the desert. An expert reader of signs, the Hualapi was soon able to announce that the trail was but one day old. There were many indications—among them the dew that had fallen, the dust or sand that had drifted into the track, the condition of the occasional tufts of dry grass which had been pressed underfoot and had partially regained upright shape, and minute marks upon the rocks—that told a plain story to the trailer. After traveling slowly for a mile, the Indian stopped, straightened himself, and looked knowingly at the king of scouts. Buffalo Bill rode forward and asked: “What is it, Panecho?” “Sacks on feet; heap smart trick, ugh!” The grunt of contempt caused the scout to smile. “Meant to fool the ordinary white man, but it doesn’t fool you, eh?” The Indian nodded. He had been following a very faint trail made by two horses whose feet had been muffled. “Bimeby sacks come off,” Panecho said. “Then we go fast.” On the trailer went, and late in the afternoon reached a spur of the Hualapi Mountains. Ten minutes later the Indian held up his hand. He had lost the trail. Colonel Hayden uttered a sigh of acute disappointment. Buffalo Bill looked at the officer, half in contempt, half in pity. “Lost for the moment,” he said; “but Panecho will soon pick it up again, or I’ll miss my guess.” The Indian made a motion that the king of scouts understood. A triangle was formed, the point where the last vestige of the trail had been seen being in the center of the base. Moving from each of the three points, the colonel, Buffalo Bill, and the Hualapi began a search for the missing trail. The colonel, who had watched the Indian closely during the ride across the desert, and whose eyes were sharpened by anxiety, was the one who found it. The mark was small, and so faint that the officer had to look twice to be sure of it. He did not shout his discovery, for silence was the order of the day, but motioned with his hand. The Indian ran up, looked at the mark, and then hurried on, to soon find another mark. Now the pursuit was resumed, and when an hour before dark a point was reached, where there were evidences that the sacks had been discarded, the colonel was in a state of hopeful excitement. There upon the ground was the impress of a horse’s hoof. The trail now became more distinct, and the Indian went forward with a celerity that delighted while it astonished the colonel.