They began a slow, painstaking course up the stream and began to fear they had been mistaken in their surmise, when Sinclair gave a shout. He had found the trail again, a telltale footprint with the patched sole. It broke upward on the other side of the canyon, and now men were posted within shouting distance of one another and left behind to notify the two men bringing weapons which way to go. Across spots where the trail was difficult or entirely lost, and still higher until the timber line was passed and bare gray rocks were everywhere, the man-hunters made their way, and another watchman was left on the highest point. Down the other side and into the timber line again, directed only by a broken twig, a freshly turned bowlder, or now and then a faint suggestion of a footprint, they plunged as rapidly as they could and then through tangled brush until suddenly they came out to an old disused path. Unerringly they picked up the footprints again, and now these indicated that the quarry had felt himself secure against pursuit and made no further attempt at concealment. "He is heading out to the east, just as you said he would," the smith declared, as he sat down with the others to await the coming of the messengers. They were certain now that henceforth they would travel rapidly. They talked in low, angry voices among themselves, while Rogers, silent and grim, sat quietly on a bowlder and smoked. A shout from the hilltop attracted their attention and they looked up to see a group beginning to descend. The men with guns had returned and the outposts doubled back on themselves as they came, adding a man at intervals, until they joined those waiting for them. Without delay the men strung out in single file along the path, with the old millman in the lead. For the most part they went as quietly as would Indians on the war-path, loping along now and then down declivities, or panting upward when the trail climbed to higher altitudes. There was no doubt at all that the man who had dynamited the dam was certain of his having evaded all followers, and indeed he would have done so with men less trained and astute. "Does any one know this country here?" demanded Rogers, suddenly halting his little band. "I do," declared one of the drill runners. "I worked over here on this side one time about two years ago. Why?" "Well, where does this trail go?" "To an old logging camp, first, then from there there is a road leading over to Malapi." Rogers lowered his hand from his ear and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Many men at the camp?" "No, I think it's been abandoned for two or three years," replied the drill runner. Rogers slapped his hand on his leg, and seemed confident again.