And now the dusty man began to display signs of a great nervousness. He fidgeted in his saddle, examined and tried the lever action of his rifle, and gloomily repeated many times that he believed the posse would arrive too late. As they passed above a cut bank, the dusty man, riding near the edge, dropped his Winchester. The piece slipped over the edge and splashed into the water fifteen feet below. Swearing, the dusty man rode back to where the bank was lower and dismounted. "Don't wait for me!" he shouted, wading upstream. "I'll catch up." The posse rode onward. Some of the horses were staggering with fatigue. All of them were jaded and dripping with sweat. Suddenly Telescope Laguerre rode from the line and vaulted out of his saddle. He landed on his hands and knees and remained in that position, his head thrust forward, his eyes blazing with excitement. "What's eatin' Telescope?" demanded Doubleday. "Tom! Tom! Come here! Queeck!" shouted the half-breed. "Say!" snorted Doubleday. "What is this, anyway? Do you fellers know there's some Injuns up here a piece?" But Loudon had joined Telescope and neither of the two gave the slightest heed to the outraged Doubleday. "Look!" exclaimed Laguerre, as the tail of the column passed. "Look! Yore hoss she come out o' de wood here! See!" "My hoss! You mean Ranger?" Loudon stared, thunderstruck, at the hoofmarks of two horses. "Yore hoss, Ranger! Ah, once I see de hoss-track I know heem again! Las' tam you shoe de hoss you shoe heem all 'roun'. Dees ees hees track. No man was ride heem. She was de led hoss. Feller ride odder hoss. See! Dey come out de wood un go dees way." Telescope waved a hand over the way they had come. "How old are the tracks?" queried Loudon, breathlessly. "Mabbeso four day. No use follow dem. We lose 'em on de hard groun'." "Telescope, I got an idea somethin's wrong. I dunno what, but these tracks comin' in here thisaway, an' that fellah with the Injun story--I guess now they hitch somehow. I tell yuh I dunno how"--as Telescope opened his mouth to speak--"an' I may be wrong, but I'm goin' back after that party from Hatchet Creek." Loudon swung into his saddle and spurred his mount. The animal responded gamely, but a pitifully slow lope was the best speed it could shake out of its weary legs. Laguerre's pony was in worse case. The short halt had stiffened his knees slightly and he stumbled at every other step. The two men lolloped jerkily downstream. Rounding a sharp bend, they came in sight of the cut bank where the dusty stranger had dropped his gun. Neither man nor horse was visible. "By gar!" exclaimed Laguerre. "By gar!"