"Well, I always thought I knowed where 'twas," Piegan retorted
spiritedly, a wicked twinkle in his shrewd old eyes. "But it must 'a'
changed location lately, for them fellers rode north a ways, an' then
kept swingin' round till they was headin' due southeast. I follered
their trail t' where yuh seen me turn this way, if yuh was watchin'.
Poor devils"--Piegan grinned covertly while voicing this mock
sympathy--"they must 'a' got lost, I reckon. It really ain't safe for
such pilgrims t' be cavortin' over the prairies with all that boodle in
their jeans. I reckon we'll just naturally have t' pike along after 'em
an' take care of it ourselves. They ain't got such a rip-roarin' start
of us--an' I'm the boy can foller that track from hell t' breakfast an'
back again. So let's eat a bite, an' then straddle our _caballos_ for
some tall ridin'."

CHAPTER XVII.

A MASTER-STROKE OF VILLAINY.

Piegan shortly proved that he made no vain boast when he asserted his
ability to follow their track. A lifetime on the plains, and a natural
fitness for the life, had made him own brother to the Indian in the
matter of nosing out dim trails. The crushing of a tuft of grass, a
broken twig, all the half-hidden signs that the feet of horses and men
leave behind, held a message for him; nothing, however slight, escaped
his eagle eye. And he did it subconsciously, without perceptible effort.
The surpassing skill of his tracking did not strike me forcibly at
first, for I can read an open trail as well as the average cowman, and
the mark of their passing lay plain before us; the veriest pilgrim, new
come from graded roads and fenced pastures, could have counted the
number of their steps--each hoof had stamped its impression in the soft
loam as clearly as a steel die-cut in soaked leather. But that was where
they had ridden while the land was still plastic from the rain. Farther,
wind and sun had dried the ridge-turf to its normal firmness and baked
the dobe flats till in places they were of their old flinty hardness.
Yet Piegan crossed at a lope places where neither MacRae nor I could
glimpse a sign--and when we would come again to soft ground the trail of
the three would rise up to confront us, and bid us marvel at the
keenness of his vision. He had a gift that we lacked.

We followed in the wake of Piegan Smith with what speed the
coulee-gashed prairie permitted, and about three o'clock halted for half
an hour to let our horses graze