the captain rode without hearing one of the anticipated
sounds, and the further he rode the lighter it grew. Far down, to the
south, now, he could dimly see objects that looked like four-footed
creatures, moving rapidly. Unluckily, he had with him only a light,
short-ranged pair of glasses, and he could not distinctly make out what
they were; but believing that they could be nothing but Manuelito and
the mules, he put spurs to his weary horse, and pushed rapidly in
pursuit--wondering, however, how it was that the Mexican, with the
slow-moving mules, could have got so far to the front. Five miles
further he rode and by that time the sun was up above the mountains of
New Mexico, over to the east, and lighting up the whole plateau to his
right. By this time, too, the objects, of which he had been in pursuit,
had totally disappeared from his sight, and looking around him he could
see nowhere sign of hoof or any trail that would indicate that the mules
had come that way. However, as he might be anywhere from ten yards to
ten miles from the exact line Manuelito traveled, this gave him no
concern. He decided that he would push on until he came upon the cavalry
trail up which he had ridden a year before on an expedition with their
good guide Sieber to Chevelon Fork. By this time, too, he knew that he
must be twelve miles from camp, and that in all probability the Indians
had left their position west of Snow Lake, and were already coming in
pursuit. He dreaded to think of the peril in which his children might
be; but he had every confidence in Pike; he believed in Jim's pluck and
fighting qualities, and he reasoned that it would be one or two o'clock
before the Indians could possibly reach the Pass, and that he could
easily get back long before that time. Riding, therefore, still further
to the south, he pursued his search for an hour longer, and then came
suddenly upon a sight that thrilled his heart with hope and joy. Right
before him, coming across the southern edge of the plateau, and winding
up the mountains to the left, was an unmistakable cavalry trail, not
more than a day or two old. Evidently some troop was out from Verde and
had taken the old short cut to Chevelon Fork, expecting by that route to
make the quickest time to the Sunset crossing of the Colorado River. In
all probability this was one of the troops coming out in search of and
to succor him and his party. Reining his jaded horse to the left, the
captain rapidly