like a
conscript, brightened up at the general rejoicing. He had produced his
own glass and let Gertrude with eager prompting help him to find the
smoke. The moment the position of Glover's party was made definite,
Bucks ordered the car run down the Hog's Back to a point so much closer
that across the broad canyon, flanking Pilot on the south, they could
make out with their glasses the figures of the three men and, when they
began to move, the smaller figure of Morris Blood.

Callahan had joined his chief to watch the situation, and they
speculated as to how the four would get out of the gulf in which they
were completely hemmed. Gertrude and her father stood near.

The eyes of the two bronzed railroad men at her side were like pilot
guides to Gertrude. When she lost the wayfarers in the gullies or
along the narrow defiles that gave them passage between towering rocks,
their eyes restored the plodding line. Callahan was the first to
detect the change from the expected course. "They are working east,"
said he, after a moment's careful observation.

"East?" echoed Bucks. "You mean west."

Callahan hung to his glass. "No," he repeated, "east--and south.
Here."

Bucks took the glass and looked a long time. "I do not understand,"
said he; "they are certainly working east. What can they be after,
east? Well, they can't go very far that way without bridging the
Devil's Canyon. Callahan," he exclaimed, with sure instinct, "they will
head south. Walt now till they appear again."

He relinquished the glass to explain to Mr. Brock where next to look
for them. There was a long interval during which they did not
reappear. Then the little file emerging from the shadow of a rock
skirted a field of snow straight to the south. There were but three
men in line. One, a little ahead, breaking path; following, two large
men tramping close together, the foremost stooping under the weight of
a man lying face upward on his back, while the man behind supported the
legs under his arms.

"They are carrying Morris Blood. He is hurt--that was to be expected.
What?" exclaimed Bucks, hardly a moment afterward, "they are crossing
the snow. Callahan, by heaven, they are walking for the south side of
Pilot, that's what it means. It is a forced march; they are making for
the mines."

Mount Pilot, from the crest that divides at Devil's Gap, rises abruptly
in a three-faced peak, the pinnacle of which lies to the south.
Sever