For a full hour they rode in the track of the strange preceding expedition; they had reached a section covered by small knolls or hillocks, some crowned by growths of dwarfed trees, others bald and desolate. Suddenly Kit Carson reined in his pony and swung himself from the saddle; without waiting to be told, both boys did the same. They quickly led their mounts behind one of the knolls; and when the trapper halted, Dave Johnson asked: “What is it?” “Tie up your mustangs,” was the only reply. The boys did so; then, following the cautious example of the trapper, they scrambled up the steep sides of the hillock; it was one of those upon which the dwarf trees grew so thickly; they lay among these and looked toward the east. “Take a steady look now, off toward the southeast,” said Kit, one hand pointing in that direction. “Do you see a hill which looks something like a horse’s head--right against the sky?” The thick mass of dark growth which topped a distant knoll was unmistakable; and both lads replied in a breath. “Yes!” “Well, strike a line to the left again--on a hill farther away--a bald hill something higher than the others.” Joe Frazier was the first to catch the object indicated. “A horseman,” said he. “An Indian!” cried Dave Johnson, an instant later, and with a keener vision. “An Indian it is,” spoke the trapper, his eyes holding to the distant figure. There was something in his manner which caught the attention of the boys. “There were Indians a-plenty back at San Gabriel and at the Pueblo,” said Joe, “but you did not pay much attention to them.” Kit Carson smiled. “No,” said he, quietly. “Those redskins didn’t call for much attention. But this is one of a very different kind. You never catch his sort planting or plowing or tending cattle; he’s a warrior, and if you were close enough to him I think you’d find that he is armed with lance, bow and arrow and tomahawk.” The savage horseman was so far away that he made but a tiny speck against the sky; but for all that he was an ominous figure in that desolate land, a sort of symbol of the danger it held for the intruding paleface and an unspoken threat of what would befall if he dared to press further into a region never meant for him. For some time the warrior sat his horse in perfect stillness; it was as though he were surveying the country round about for signs of danger, or, more probably, for signs of prey. Then he suddenly turned his horse and disappeared from the summit of the knoll.