ponies lying back yonder; neither shod, yet both had borne
saddles. More than this, they had been spurred, the blood marks still
plainly visible, and one of them was branded; he remembered it now, a
star and arrow. What could all this portend? Was it possible this attack
was no Indian affair after all? Was the disfiguring of bodies, the
scalping, merely done to make it appear the act of savages? Driven
to investigation by this suspicion, he passed again over the trampled
ground, marking this time every separate indentation, every faintest
imprint of hoof or foot. There was no impression of a moccasin anywhere;
every mark remaining was of booted feet. The inference was sufficiently
plain--this had been the deed of white men, not of red; foul murder, and
not savage war.

The knowledge seemed to seer Keith's brain with fire, and he sprang to
his feet, hands clinched and eyes blazing. He could have believed this
of Indians, it was according to their nature, their method of warfare;
but the cowardliness of it, the atrocity of the act, as perpetrated
by men of his own race, instantly aroused within him a desire for
vengeance. He wanted to run the fellows down, to discover their
identity. Without thinking of personal danger, he ran forward on their
trail, which led directly westward, along the line of cottonwoods. These
served to conceal his own movements, yet for the moment, burning with
passion, he was utterly without caution, without slightest sense of
peril. He must know who was guilty of such a crime; he felt capable of
killing them even as he would venomous snakes. It was a perfectly plain
trail to follow, for the fugitives, apparently convinced of safety, and
confident their cowardly deed would be charged to Indian raiders, had
made no particular effort at concealment, but had ridden away at a
gallop, their horses' hoofs digging deeply into the soft turf. On this
retreat they had followed closely along the river bank, aiming for the
ford, and almost before he realized it Keith was himself at the water's
edge where the trail abruptly ended, staring vaguely across toward
the opposite shore. Even as he stood there, realizing the futility of
further pursuit amid the maze of sand dunes opposite, the sharp reports
of two rifles reached him, spurts of smoke rose from the farther bank,
and a bullet chugged into the ground at his feet, while another sang
shrilly overhead.

These shots, although neither came sufficiently near to