“Taking the glass, I searched the farther shore, and there, plainly to be seen, were the deeply set footprints of a man in the wet sand at the water’s edge, and higher, upon the rocks of the ravine, were the splotched and straggling lines made by the water drained from the wet clothing. “The outlaw’s tremendous achievement, which under other circumstances would have lifted my admiration to enthusiasm, passed from my thought as I marked that his footprints were _alone_. No small tracks were beside his, nor were there any traces of a dragged body. Evidently in his flight from the grasp of the river Tigre had not turned to look for his pursuers, nor down the stream for the poor girl’s body, if the hand of murder had given it to the waves. “A hush of awe and horror fell upon us, and many seconds passed before it was broken by Cady’s low, masterful voice: “‘Pico, take two men, go down to the mouth of Alkali Wash and watch for the body. All the drift swings in there when the water is high. Ride fast and you will be in time. The Major and I will see this hunt to the end. Come, Major, we can cross two miles above here, but it will be six miles as we ride.’ “Back we went to our horses, leaving four men to care for the dead, and at last, after many slides and zigzags, reached the river at a point where the current was slow. Cady’s horse took the water by a plunge from the crumbling bank, and we followed, swimming our animals to a narrow shingle at the base of the opposite bluff. Following this stony passageway a short distance, we scaled the hill after a struggle that left a number of our horses useless, and after a brief rest fifteen of us rode on. “We struck the trail two miles from the river, at the point where the ravine rose to the level of the mesa, and followed it across rugged country—hard upon our horses, and harder, too, it must have been, for the indomitable man who crossed it on foot, keeping a direct course for the mountains. * * * * * “The blood-stains, found in many places, indicated severe wounds, yet the length of his strides and the deep impressions of his feet proved that he had passed at great speed. What exhaustless fountain of infernal energy supplied the strength to maintain this reckless waste? Many times we asked ourselves this question as hour after hour we urged on our flagging horses. No animal is equal to man at his best, and here, I think, was Nature’s masterpiece. “We climbed the first foothills at sunset. As night came on with clouds obscuring the moon the pursuit became impossible and we unsaddled our tired horses, spread our blankets and slept until daybreak. “Frequently, since recovering the trail, Cady had dismounted and closely examined the footprints of the fleeing man, with a look in his eyes that puzzled me. It betokened amazement, admiration and something akin to pity.