de 'oman gon'--he joomp on de hoss an ride lak hell after de man an' de 'oman." Endicott was staring, white-lipped into the half-breed's face. He leaped up and seized the man's arm roughly. "Did he catch them?" he cried. Bat shook his head: "_Non_--not yet. We fol' 'long on de trail--we fin' dat out. Com' we git de hoss." "But, maybe it was Tex who got here first and rode away with her," cried Endicott as they hastened toward the picketed horses. "Surely you can't tell from those tracks----" The other interrupted him: "_Oui!_ De track don't lie. Ol' Bat, she know 'bout dat. Me--A'm know Tex track an' when she tromp 'roun' she shov' de mud on de odder man track--eef de odder track ain' dere firs' how in hell Tex kin shov' de mud on it?" "And this happened yesterday! Oh, Alice! Alice!" The man's voice broke on the name, and glancing into his face, Bat saw that it glistened wet with the sweat of torture. As they mounted he offered a word of advice and encouragement: "Dat better you ain' los' de, w'at you call, de guts. Mebbe-so you 'oman all right. We fin' um safe on som' ranch house." The trail of the four horses was so plain that even Endicott found no difficulty in following it across the bench. Bat struck into a steady trot which was maintained till he pulled up sharply at a point where the trail dimmed to nothing upon the hard lava rock of the bad lands. The half-breed studied the ground: "De leetle hoss turn back," he announced, "Tex, she gon' on in. He los' de trail, now--he ain' kin pick it oop in here--he ain' Injun. He', w'at you call, goin' it blin'." Unhesitatingly the old half-breed followed along a ridge and dropped off into a coulee. He rode slowly, now, with his eyes on the hard rocky ground. Several times he dismounted and Endicott's heart sank as he watched him search, sometimes upon hands and knees. But always the old man straightened up with a grunt of satisfaction and mounting proceeded confidently upon his course, although try as he would, Endicott could discern no slightest mark or scratch that would indicate that anyone had passed that way. "Are you really following a trail?" he asked, at length, as the Indian headed up a coulee whose wind-swept floor was almost solid rock. The old man smiled: "_Oui_, A'm fol' de trail, all right. Two hoss, shod, mak' good trail for Injun. Eef dey swim een de wattaire lak de feesh, eef dey fly een de air lak de bird, Ol' Bat he no kin pick oop de trail--but, by Goss! Eef dey walk, or ron, or stan' still dey got to mak' de sign on de groun' an' me--A'm fin' dat out--" The words died in his throat as he jerked his horse to a stand. From behind a projecting shoulder of rock a man stepped directly into their path.