I
reckon this yere was her ribbon; that footprint is sure."

He stirred up the scattered ashes, and then passed over and looked at
the dead man.

"What do yer think, Sergeant?"

"They stopped here to eat, maybe five hours ago," pushing the ashes
about with his toe. "The fire has been out that long. Then they got
into a quarrel--Connors and Dupont--for he was shot with a Colt '45';
no Indian ever did that. Then they struck out again with two led
horses. I should say they were three or four hours ahead, travelling
slow."

"Good enough," and Wasson patted his arm. "You 're a plainsman all
right, 'Brick.' You kin sure read signs. Thet 's just 'bout the whole
story, as I make it. Nuthin' fer us to do but snatch a bite an' go on.
Our hosses 're fresher 'n theirs. No sense our stoppin' to bury
Connors; he ain't worth it, an' the birds 'll take care o' him. The
outfit was still a headin' south--see!"

There could be no doubt of this, as the shelter of the sand ridge had
preserved a plain trail, although a few yards beyond, the sweeping wind
had already almost obliterated every sign of passage. The four men ate
heartily of their cold provender, discussing the situation in a few
brief sentences. Wasson argued that Dupont was heading for some Indian
winter encampment, thinking to shift responsibility for the crime upon
the savages, thus permitting him to return once more to civilization,
but Hamlin clung to his original theory of a hide-out upon Dupont's old
cattle-range, and that a purpose other than the mere robbery of
McDonald was in view. All alike, however, were convinced that the
fugitives were seeking the wild bluffs of the Canadian River for
concealment.

It was not yet dark when they again picked up the trail, rode around
the dead body of Connors, and pushed forward into the maze of sand.
For an hour the advance was without incident, the scout in the lead not
even dismounting, his keen eyes picking up the faint "sign" unerringly.
Then darkness shut down, the lowering bank of clouds completely
blotting the stars, although the white glisten of the sand under foot
yielded a slight guidance. Up to this time there had been no deviation
in direction, and now when the trail could be no longer distinguished,
the little party decided on riding straight southward until they struck
the Cimarron. An hour or two later the moon arose, hardly visible and
yet brightening the cloud canopy, so that the riders could s