n't look like there's nothin' out there, but we might try--what do
you say?"

"I vote we keep moving; that wagon is bound to leave a trail here and
there, and so long as we get the general direction, we can't go far
wrong."

"I reckon you're right. Come on then; let's saddle up."

It was a blind trail, and progress was slow. The men separated, riding
back and forth, leaning forward in the saddles, scanning the sand for
the slightest sign. Again and again they were encouraged by some
discovery which proved they were on the right track--the clear print of
a horse's hoof; a bit of greasy paper which might have been tied round
a lunch, and thrown away; impresses in the sand which bore resemblance
to a man's footprints; a tin can, newly opened, and an emptied
tobacco-pouch. Twice they encountered an undoubted wheel mark, and
once traces of the whole four wheels were plainly visible. These could
be followed easily for nearly a quarter of a mile, but then as quickly
vanished as the wagon came again to an outcropping of rock. Yet this
was assured--the outfit had headed steadily southward.

This was desperately slow work, and beyond that ridge of rock they
discovered no other evidence. An hour passed, and not the slightest
sign gave encouragement. Could the wagon have turned in some other
direction? In the shadow of a sand-dune they halted finally to discuss
the situation. Should they go on? Or explore further to the east and
west? Might it not even be better to retrace their way to the springs,
and wait the coming of Lacy? All in front of them the vast sand plain
stretched out, almost as level as a floor. So far as the eye would
carry there was no visible sign of any depression or change in
conformity. Certainly there was no valley in that direction. Beyond
this dune, in whose shelter they stood, there was nothing on which the
gaze could rest; all was utter desolation, apparently endless.

Brennan was for turning back, arguing the uselessness of going further,
and the necessity of water for the ponies.

"Come on, Jim," he urged. "Be sensible; we've lost the trail, and
that's no fault o' ours. An Apache Indian couldn't trace a herd o'
steers through this sand. And look ahead thar! It's worse, an' more
of it. I'm for stalking Lacy at the springs." He stopped suddenly,
staring southward as though he had seen a vision. "Holy smoke! What's
that? By God! It's a wagon, Jim; an' it come right up out of t