ight ascend, horses
could not be taken along; and on such a chase it would be hopeless for
them to set out afoot.

But men could not go up the cliff.

"A cat kedn't climb it," says Walt, who during his sojourn in the valley
has explored every inch of it. "We've got to stay hyar till the flood
falls. I reckon no one kin be sorrier to say so than this chile. But
thar's no help for 't."

"Till the flood falls? When will that be?"

No one can answer this, not even Wilder himself. And with clouded
brows, sullen, dispirited, they return to the jacal.

Two days they stay there, chafing with angry impatience. In their anger
they are ready for the most perilous enterprise. But, although bitterly
cursing the sinister chance that hinders pursuit, deeming each hour a
day, they can do nought save wait till the swollen stream subsides.

They watch it with eager solicitude, constantly going to the bank to
examine it, as the captain of a ship consults his weather-glass to take
steps for the safety of his vessel. All the time one or another is
riding to, or returning from, the head of the valley, to bring back
report of how the subsidence progresses.

And long ere the stream has returned to its regular channel, they plunge
their horses into it, breasting a current that almost sweeps them off
their feet. But the Texan horses are strong, as their riders are
skilful; the obstacle is surmounted, and the Rangers at length escape
from their prolonged and irksome imprisonment.

It is mid-day, as filing up the pass, they reach the higher level of the
Llano. Not many moments do they remain there; only long enough for the
rear files to get out of the gorge, when those in front move forward
across the plain, guided by the two best trackers in Texas, Nat Cully
and Walt Wilder.

At first there is no following of a trail, since there is none visible.
Wind, rain, and drifted dust have obliterated every mark made by the
returning soldiers. Not a sign is left to show the pursuers the path
Uraga's troop has taken.

They know it should be westward, and strike out without waiting to look
for tracks.

For the first ten or twelve miles they ride at a rapid rate, often going
in a gallop. Their horses, rested and fresh, enable them to do so.
They are only stayed in their pace by the necessity of keeping a
straight course--not so easy upon a treeless plain, when the sun is not
visible in the sky. Unluckily for them, the day is cloudy,