re in the saddle, exploring the mouths of coulees and scouring every
foot of the scrub-bordered bank. It was nearly noon when, from the edge
of a high cliff that overlooked the river, they caught sight of the
abandoned ferry-boat. The crest of the rise of water had passed in the
night and the boat lay with one corner fast aground. Putting spurs to
the horses they raced back from the river until they reached a point
that gave access to the coulee. The keen eyes of the half-breed picked
up the tracks at the bottom of the ravine even before the horses had
completed the decent, and it was with difficulty that he restrained the
impatient Endicott from plunging down the ravine at the imminent risk of
destroying the sign. Picketing the horses beside the trail the two
proceeded on foot, Old Bat in the lead, bent slightly forward with his
eyes darting this way and that, studying each minutest detail of the
disturbed ground. Following closely, Endicott hung on each word and
grunt and fragmentary observation of the old Indian. In vain he plied
Bat with eager questions but he might as well have sought information
from the sphinx. The old man paid him not the slightest attention but
proceeded on down the coulee pausing and staring at the sign for a full
minute at a time, again almost running with his eyes fixed on the ground
until brought up again, frowning and muttering by some new baffling
combination of tracks. After what seemed an interminable length of time
they reached the mouth of the coulee where Endicott sank wearily onto
the end of the water-logged boat and watched the half-breed work back
and forth, back and forth, over the little strip of beach. Endicott had
long ceased to ask questions and when at last, Bat straightened up,
removed his hat, and wiped the sweat from his forehead upon the sleeve
of his faded shirt, the information he conveyed was voluntary: "I ain'
quite mak' it out. Firs' t'ing dey lan' here Tex, she ain' got on de
boots. De 'oman she sleep--mebbe-so w'at you call, knock out. Tex car'
her an' lay her on de grass w'ere she leetle bit flat," he paused and
pointed to a spot that looked no whit different from any other spot of
grass to Endicott's untrained eyes. "Only wan hoss lan'--dat Powder
Face, an' ron lak hell up de coulee. Tex, she gon' up de coulee an'
by'm'by he put on de boots an' climb oop on de bench. After w'ile com's
a man on a hoss off de bench. He ketch oop Powder Face an' com' down
here an' gi