that had befallen him.

They did not search long before they found plenty of evidence that Jerry
had been there at the time of the trouble. They found Manuel lying on
his back, with his beard clotted and stained red, and his black eyes
staring dully at the sky. Farther along they came upon Carlos, lying
upon his face, with a blood-stained trail behind him in the grass to
show how far he had crawled before death overtook him. But they did not
find Jerry, look where they would.

In the cabin, where they finally went to search systematically for
clews, they found places where the logs had been splintered near the
loopholes with bullets from without. A siege it had been, then.

Jack, more familiar with the interior than either of the others because
of his frequent visits there with Teresita, missed certain articles; the
frying pan, an iron pot, a few dishes, and the bedding, to be exact.

So, finally, they decided that Jerry, having had the worst befall him,
had buried his dead, packed a few necessary things upon one of the
mules, mounted the other, and had gone--where? There was no telling
where, in that big land. Somewhere into the wilderness, they guessed,
where he could be alone with the deadly hurt Fate and his enemies had
given him.

The oxen, when they went outside, came shambling up the slope to the oak
tree where they were wont to spend the night near the prairie schooner
that had been their homing place for many a month. But without a doubt
the mules were gone; otherwise, Jack insisted, they would be near the
oxen, as was their gregarious habit.

"Jerry's gone--pulled out," Jack asserted for the third or fourth time.
"And the mules, and--the pup. Where's Chico? I haven't seen or heard
anything of him; have you?"

They had not; and they immediately began calling and looking for Chico,
who was at that stage of puppyhood that insists upon getting in front of
one and then falling down and lying, paws in the air, waiting to be
picked up and petted. But Chico did not come lumbering up like an
animated black muff, and they could not find his little, dead body.

It occurred to Dade that he might be buried with Tige; and, once the
idea was presented to Jack, he could not content himself to leave the
place until he knew to a certainty. He would never have admitted it, but
there were certain sweet memories which made that particular pup not at
all like other black pups. He got the shovel, and he dug in the little
gr