"That's Mountain Mose," said Captain Clinton in reply to George's
inquiring look. "He no doubt gave himself the name because he has lived
on the Plains all his life. He is a lazy, worthless vagabond, but what
he doesn't know about Indians isn't worth knowing. If he would only wake
up and display a little energy, he would be invaluable as a scout."

"What is he doing here?" asked George. "He seems to be waiting for us."

"Yes, I expected to find him at this place. He has been out to take a
look at the trail of that war-party who did all this damage.--Well,
Mose, any news?"

"Not much, cap," drawled the scout. "You put straight for the Staked
Plains, an' if you are lively enough to ketch 'em anywhar, you'll ketch
'em thar."

"Then we shall never get the cattle," said the captain. "If the Indians
are going in there, they intend that the stock shall die of thirst
rather than fall into our hands."

"That's jest their little game, cap," said the scout, puffing at his
pipe. "You see, they'll keep along on the edge of the desert, so't they
can have grass an' water in plenty, an' if you don't pester 'em none
they won't go into the Staked Plains at all; but if you push 'em hard
they'll run the critters in thar an' leave 'em, hopin' that you will run
your hosses an' men to death while you are huntin' 'em up. You won't
never see the young ones, nuther; an' I don't see why the colonel sent
out sich a party as this so late in the day, anyhow. We'd oughter been a
hundred miles along that thar trail by sun-up this mornin'."

George felt the deepest sympathy for Mr. Wentworth, who listened
attentively to what the scout had to say, although he said nothing in
return. His almost overwhelming sorrow showed itself in his face, but
did not take the form of words.

As Captain Clinton had made no halt for dinner, the colonel having
instructed him to find and receive the report of the scout as soon as
possible, he decided to stop here and allow his men an hour or two for
rest and refreshment. Giving their horses into the charge of some of the
troopers, he and his two company commanders walked away with the scout,
while George rode off to hunt up Bob Owens. He staked his own horse out
beside Bob's, and then walked back with him to take a nearer view of the
ruins.

"How do you suppose that that man in the sombrero and moccasins knows
that the Indians who did this have fled toward the Staked Plains?" asked
Bob after he and his friend had