"Now, if there's any of you boys here that know trails," he said, "come along with me, and we'll section the hillside up there and pick it up. If you don't, stay here, because I can get it in time, and don't want no one tramplin' over the ground. I was--a scout for five years, and--well, I worked in the Geronimo raid." Dick and Bill looked at him with a new admiration, marveling that the man had never before betrayed that much of his variegated and hard career. "You're right! I believe you're right," the superintendent exclaimed. "I can help you. So can Dick. We've lived where it came in handy sometimes." But two other men joined them, one a white-headed old miner called Chloride and the other a stoker named Sinclair who had been at the Cross for but a few weeks, and admitted that he had been a packer in Arizona. Slowly the men formed into a long line, and began working toward one another, examining the ground in a belt twenty feet wide and covering the upper eastward edge of the canyon. Each had his own method of trailing. The white-headed man stooped over and passed slowly from side to side. Bill walked with slow deliberation, stopping every three or four feet and scanning the ground around him with his brilliant, keen eyes. The stoker worked like a pointer dog, methodically, and examining each bush clump for broken twigs. But it was Rogers the millman, whose method was more like Bill's, who gave the gathering call. On a patch of earth, close by the side of the rampart and where the moisture had percolated sufficiently to soften the ground, was the plain imprint of a man's foot, shod in miner's brogans, and half-soled. Nor was that all. The half-soling had evidently been home work, and the supply of pegs had been exhausted. In lieu of them, three square-headed hobnails had been driven into the center of the seam holding the patch of leather to the under part of the instep, or palm of the foot. They were off like a pack of bloodhounds, with the old millman in the lead. Dick started to follow, and then paused. He saw that Bill was standing aside, as if hesitating what to do. "Bill, old partner," he said wearily, "if anything can be found they can find it. I think you and I had better go back and try to think some way out of this--try to see some opening. It looks pretty black." The big fellow took four or five of his long, swinging steps, and threw an arm over the younger man's shoulder.