our saddles with the mystery unsolved. To the Virginian
it was a greater one, apparently, than to me; why should one have to
account for every stray traveller in the mountains?

"That's queer, too," said the Virginian. He was now riding in front of
me, and he stopped, looking down at the trail. "Don't you notice?"

It did not strike me.

"Why, he keeps walking beside his hawss; he don't get on him."

Now we, of course, had mounted at the beginning of the better trail
after the steep rock, and that was quite half a mile back. Still, I had
a natural explanation. "He's leading a packhorse. He's a poor trapper,
and walks."

"Packhorses ain't usually shod before and behind," said the Virginian;
and sliding to the ground he touched the footprints. "They are not four
hours old," said he. "This bank's in shadow by one o'clock, and the sun
has not cooked them dusty."

We continued on our way; and although it seemed no very particular
thing to me that a man should choose to walk and lead his horse for a
while,--I often did so to limber my muscles,--nevertheless I began to
catch the Virginian's uncertain feeling about this traveller whose steps
had appeared on our path in mid-journey, as if he had alighted from the
mid-air, and to remind myself that he had come over the great face of
rock from another trail and thus joined us, and that indigent trappers
are to be found owning but a single horse and leading him with their
belongings through the deepest solitudes of the mountains--none of this
quite brought back to me the comfort which had been mine since we left
the cottonwoods out of sight down in the plain. Hence I called out
sharply, "What's the matter now?" when the Virginian suddenly stopped
his horse again.

He looked down at the trail, and then he very slowly turned round in his
saddle and stared back steadily at me. "There's two of them," he said.

"Two what?"

"I don't know."

"You must know whether it's two horses or two men," I said, almost
angrily.

But to this he made no answer, sitting quite still on his horse and
contemplating the ground. The silence was fastening on me like a spell,
and I spurred my horse impatiently forward to see for myself. The
footprints of two men were there in the trail.

"What do you say to that?" said the Virginian. "Kind of ridiculous,
ain't it?"

"Very quaint," I answered, groping for the explanation. There was no
rock here to walk over and step from into the softer trail.