willows, Turner himself,
with a score of his men, hastened back to quarters. There was saddling
in hot haste, yet with the precision of long practice. By half past two
all sight or sound of the trailers and the pursuing horsemen was lost
in the distance, and a corporal, trotting back from the Sanchez place,
reported that Munoz and some of his fellows had joined in the search,
and already with important result. Captain Turner sent him back with
his compliments to the commanding officer.

In the presence of Bonner, Bucketts and Strong, the general took the
package, something heavy, bundled in the red silk handkerchief Turner
had torn from his own brawny throat. A scrap of paper went fluttering
to the ground, which the adjutant quickly recovered and handed to his
chief, who read aloud in the dim candle light the words: "It might be
well to keep this from Harris, at least to-night."

Looking a trifle dazed, Archer unrolled the silken folds, and laid on
the office table the handsome, silver-mounted Colt revolver of the old
calibre 44 model Willett had lost that Sunday night of his perilous
adventure up the valley. There it was, inscription and all, every
visible chamber still loaded, its murderous leaden bullet showing in
the candle light. Archer slowly drew back the hammer. The cylinder
slowly revolved. The barrel-chamber swung as slowly into view, black,
powder-stained, and--empty. One shot, then, had been fired and very
recently. Who could have had it all this time but 'Tonio? Who else
could have fired it?

CHAPTER XXII.

Turner and his men were gone all night, all the next day, and much of
the night that followed. Then they began drifting back in squads of
three or four. By noon the second day the captain himself, with the
main body, returned, dispirited, mystified. They had lost the trail
near the Picacho, found it again, lost it, found it, scoured the
foothills and scouted the east face of the Mazatzal, and came back
empty-handed. Willett's pistol was the only thing recovered, even with
such aid as could be rendered by some of the Sanchez party, Munoz and
Jose being most energetic in their aid--"'Patchie" Sanchez being, of
course, nowhere visible. 'Patchie had affairs of his own to answer for
and explain against the homeward coming of the Big Chief Crook, and was
shy of Saxon society in consequence.

And Turner was plainly nettled and chagrined. He and his troop were
about as expert trailers as could be f