But from that point a descent into the river could rapidly be made, and as the stream had a bend there, a swim would carry them across for a landing on the sand bar below. Going around to the head of the ravine, Buffalo Bill and the sergeant came to a halt, as though they had been shot at. “Too late!” said Buffalo Bill. “They have crossed,” said the sergeant, and his face was white. “Yes, not two hours ago, from the looks of the trail. “That man knows the secret pass through Skeleton Range, or he could never have reached here in this time, for that cuts off all of thirty miles in coming from the Overland Trail to the upper ford.” “Yes, I have followed the regular trail, long ago, but knew of no secret pass.” “There is one, however, as an old trapper once led me through it. The outlaw must have known it, to have reached here before us, riding as we have, for, remember, it is just twenty-four hours since we left the fort, and we have come a little over a hundred miles.” “Very true; we have done our duty, but in vain, for my daughter is still in that man’s power, and has been carried on to the Indian camp in the mountains.” “I fear so.” “What can we do now?” “I’ll tell you. “We came here on foot, so have left no trail. We will go to the lower ravine and join the boys, then draw off for a camp, for horses and men must rest.” “True.” “We passed a spot some distance back that will make a splendid camp, back from the river, and where the fires cannot be seen by the Indians, who must still be guarding the fords.” “Yes.” “Now to see if this trail was made by the same party, for I took notice of peculiarities I can readily discover, as there were two shod horses, and large animals, the others being ponies.” “That means the outlaw’s two horses and the ponies of the Indian allies.” “Just that,” and the two began to examine the trail. “Yes, here are the tracks of the two iron-shod horses, Mr. Cody.” “There are more shod horses--six more, sergeant--and that means----” “The six horses of the stagecoach,” quickly interrupted the sergeant. “Just that.” “That tells the story, then, for the other tracks agree. It is growing dark, so let us hurry back and make a camp for the tired men.” They walked rapidly back down the river bank, joined the two scouts awaiting them, and told the sad story to them that they were too late! Mounting their horses, they rode back in the gathering twilight for a mile, when they met the other two scouts, who had dropped back on account of their horses. They had halted just where the scout intended to make the night camp, and, seeing that the place was thoroughly sheltered, they began to build fires. Just as the fires began to burn well, the command came in sight, and the tired horses gained courage and hastened on. They were soon all there, the stragglers dropping in one by one, and a sadness fell upon all as they heard the ill-omened words: “Too late!”