and brush, and was dark, because shut in. We didn't trot. My old
horse just put his nose down close to the ground, and went along at an
amble, like a dog, smelling the trail. I let the lines hang and gave him
his head. Behind me followed Van and his gray. I could hear the gray
also sniffing. (Note 65.)

"Will we get through?" called Van, anxiously. "Think we're still on the
trail?"

"Sure," I answered.

Just then my horse snorted, and raised his head and snorted more, and
stood stock-still, trembling. I could feel that his ears were pricked.
He acted as if he was seeing something, in the trail.

"Gwan!" I said, digging him with my heels.

"What's the matter?" called Van.

His horse had stopped and was snorting.

"Don't know."

It was pitchy dark. I strained to see, but I couldn't. That is a creepy
thing, to have your horse act so, when you don't know why. Of course you
think bear and cougar. But we were not to be held up by any foolishness,
and I was not a bit afraid.

"Gwan!" I ordered again.

"Gwan!" repeated Van.

I heard a crackling in the brush, and my horse proceeded, sidling and
snorting past the spot. Van's gray followed, acting the same way. It
might have been a bear; we never knew.

On we went, winding through the black timber again. We were on the
trail, all right; for by looking at the tree-tops against the sky we
could just see them and could see that they were always opening out,
ahead. The trail on the ground was kind of reproduced on the sky.

It was a long way, through that dark gulch. But nothing hurt us and we
kept going.

The gulch widened; we rode through a park, and the horses turned sharply
and began to climb a hill--zigzagging back and forth. We couldn't see a
trail, and I got off and felt with my hands.

A trail was there.

We came out on top. Here it was lighter. The moon had risen, and some
light leaked through the clouds.

"Do you think we're on the right trail, still?" asked Van, dubiously.
"They didn't say anything about this other hill."

That was so. But they hadn't said anything about there being two trails,
either. They had said that when we struck the trail over the mesa, to
follow it to the mines.

"It must be the right trail," I said, back. "All we can do is to keep
following it."

Seemed to me that we had gone the twenty miles already. But of course we
hadn't.

"Maybe we've branched off, on to another trail," persisted Van. "The
horses turned, you reme