They picked up the trail of the hoofprints and followed it. When they returned
to the others they found the boys all mounted and waiting impatiently like
hounds on the leash eager to get away on the chase. Six horses there were, and
even old Applehead, who was in a bad humor that morning and seemed to hate
agreeing with anyone, admitted that probably the four who had committed the
robbery and left town in the machine had been met out here by a man who
brought horses for them and one extra pack horse. This explained the number in
the most plausible manner, and satisfied everyone that they were on the right
trail.
Riding together -since they were on a plain trail and there was nothing to be
gained by separating--they climbed to the higher mesa, crossed the ridge of
the three barren hills that none of them but Applehead had ever passed, and
went on and on and on as the hoofprints led them, straight toward the
reservation.
They discussed the robbery from every angle--they could think of, and once or
twice someone hazarded a guess at Annie-Many-Ponies' reason for leaving and
her probable destination. They wondered how old Dave Wiswell, the dried little
cattleman of The Phantom Herd, was making out in Denver, where he had gone to
consult a specialist about some kidney trouble that had interfered with his
riding all spring.
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