"
In twenty minutes their breakfast was eaten and they were in the
saddle. The sun had not yet risen when they came out of the willows to
the broad shallow basin of the river. In spring, when the snow of the
mountains melted, that river filled from bank to bank with a yellow
torrent; at the dry season of the year it was a dirty little creek
meandering through the sands. Down the bank they rode at a sharp trot
for a mile and a half until Black Bart, who scouted ahead of them at
his gliding wolf-trot, came to an abrupt stop. Dan spoke to Satan and
the stallion broke into a swift gallop which left the pony of Tex
Calder labouring in the rear. When they drew rein beside the wolf,
they found seven distinct tracks of horses which went down the bank
of the river and crossed the basin. Calder turned with a wide-eyed
amazement to Dan.
"You're right again," he said, not without a touch of vexation in his
voice; "but the dog stopped at these tracks. How does he know we are
hunting for Silent's crew?"
"I dunno," said Dan, "maybe he jest suspects."
"They can't have a long start of us," said Calder. "Let's hit the
trail. Well get them before night."
"No," said Dan, "we won't.
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