a creek. The hills sloped back on either hand. Into them led wide
draws, timbered, little valleys in themselves. But this pass was merely
a vestibule. It reached the summit of the first range of hills, and
there was a way down the other side. The trail had been cut out. But
beyond were hundreds of square miles of mountains in which what few
trails there were had never known an ax.

In the afternoon they reached the summit of the first divide. It was
comparatively low, and timbered. There was a lake, scarcely more than a
pond. There the fugitives had halted.

Rennie and Bush nosed among the signs like old hounds, not looking for
anything in particular, but because they could not help it.

"I sh'd say they got two pack ponies," Bush decided. "There's the four
French boys, and maybe Garland."

"Garland ain't with 'em," Rennie returned with conviction. "He's too
darn wise. He knows Angus would go after Blake, or if he didn't me or
Turkey would. So he'd quit Blake right away and pull out by himself.
I'd bet money on it."

"Not with me," Bush grinned. "I guess you're right."

They were standing by the little lake, and Rennie pointed to a moccasin
track that lay in the soft ground. The foot that made it was shapely,
rather small, and straight along the inner line. The toes were spread
widely, naturally.

"That's funny," said Rennie.

"Why?" Bush asked. "It's some Injun. He jumped from there onto that log.
I s'pose he wanted water without wettin' his feet."

"What's an Injun doin' here?"

"What's an Injun doin' any place?" Bush countered with the scorn of the
old-timer. "S'pose you loosen up some. You know as much about Injuns as
I do."

"Well, we ain't met this Injun," said Rennie, "so he's travelin' the
same way we are. Maybe he's just one of a bunch that's in here huntin'.
But I was tellin' you about how old Paul Sam come to Angus' wife's place
last night. He was lookin' for Blake. 'Course you heard what was said
about Blake and his granddaughter. I just wondered."

Bush removed his hat and scratched his head.

"By gosh, I wonder!" he observed. "He's mighty old, but it might be. He
ain't no fish-eatin' flat-face Siwash. He's a horse Injun--one of the
old stock. But he is darn old."

"He thought a heap of the girl," said Rennie. "He sent her to school. He
was goin' to make her all same white girl."

"Uh-huh!" Bush growled. "A lot of darn fools think they can do tricks
like that. But she's a job for the Almi