" Bagsby decided. "They'd drive those hosses
away five or six miles before they'd stop; and McNally was with us just
a little piece back. He'll be in by the time the venison is cooked."

But he was not; nor by an hour later. Then we decided that we must go
out to look for him.

"We can't see nothin' till daylight," said Bagsby, "but we can get
started back for the last place we saw him."

It was now about one o'clock in the morning. Bagsby appointed Vasquez,
Missouri Jones, Buck Barry, Yank and myself to accompany him. Don Gaspar
was suffering from a slight attack of malarial fever; and Johnny, to his
vast disgust, was left to hold him company. We took each a horse, which
we had to ride bareback and with a twisted rope "war halter."

Bagsby led the way, and we followed closely nose to tail. It was an
interesting and wonderful experience, had I had more attention to give
it, for we rode mysteriously neck deep in velvet darkness over strange
hills, and awful shapes rose mysteriously, and the sky silvered with
stars like the glittering of little waves. But my mind was filled with
dread and foreboding, and a great anxiety for our merry, blue-eyed
companion, and a very considerable wonder as to how our guide managed to
find his way.

He did not hesitate, however, as to direction; only occasionally he had
to stop and cast back and around for a way through. Often, at a low
command from him, we dismounted and led our animals.

We proceeded thus for a long time--five or six miles, I should think. By
the undefined feeling of dark space at either hand I judged we must be
atop a ridge. Bagsby halted.

"It was somewhere on this ridge we left him," said he. "I reckon now
we'd just better set down and wait for dawn."

Accordingly we dismounted and drew together in a little group. Over the
top of the great ranges a gibbous moon rose slowly. By her dim light I
could make out the plunge on either side our ridge, and the other dark
ridges across the way. Behind us our horses occasionally stamped a hoof
or blew softly through their noses.

I lay flat on my back, and idly counted the stars. Happening to glance
sidewise, I caught the flicker of a distant light.

"Bagsby," I whispered, "there's a fire not more than a half mile away."

He too lay down in order to get my angle of view.

"It's not McNally," he pronounced after a moment's careful inspection,
"for it's too big a fire, and it's a lot more than half a mile away.
That's