t squawk," he soliloquized, "but I am not lost
yet. I only wish I knew what that animal was. It would take a big load
off my shoulders if I did."

Tom did not waste any time in forming his bundle, for there were some
things about the pocket that he did not care to see. He wanted to get
out of sight of every thing that reminded him of his terrible fright. He
put all his bacon, hard-tack, and coffee into his blanket, strapped his
pot to his belt behind, set his pick, spade, and pack-saddle up where
they could be easily found, shouldered his rifle, and, with a farewell
glance at the bronco, which had carried his pack so faithfully for him
so many miles, he plunged into the bushes and left the pocket behind.

For that one single day everything went well. He found the bronco's hoof
prints in the sand, and easily discovered the places where he had been
browsing on the way, and as long as these signs remained he couldn't get
lost. He even found, too, the place where they had stopped the night
before, but going into camp without the presence of the horse was
lonesome to him. He saw the place where he had scraped away the leaves
from the side of the stream to give him a spot to drink, and found the
sapling to which he had hitched him, and the place where he had spread
his blanket--but there was little sleep for him that night.

"I wish I knew what that animal was," thought Tom, as he sat on his
blanket with his rifle in readiness on his knees. "The more I think of
him the more frightened I become. I wish I was safe at headquarters."

Remember that the signs Tom had been following were only one day old,
and on the morning of the second day he could not find the place where
he had entered the camp. Turn which way he would he could not discover
any footprints. He finally concluded that the middle canyon looked more
familiar to him than the rest, and, with his heart in his mouth, he
struck into it. At the spot where the canyon branched into another he
found a little stream which ran in the direction he thought he ought to
go, and close beside the stream was a footprint which he took to be his
own. He was all right now, and with every mile he travelled the faster
he went, in the hope of finding something else that was encouraging, but
that solitary footprint was the only thing he saw. There was one thing
about it that kept up his spirits, and that was he was following a
stream that ran toward the prairie, and he would continue to f