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"Thet proves he ain't gone far," said Barringford, almost in a whisper. "He stopped to scratch himself an' then dropped into a walk. Go slow now and keep quiet, an' we may come up to him before you know it." The old frontiersman's advice was followed, and they turned along the newly-made trail, which now led up to the top of another hill.
Followed by Black-tip and one or two others of the more adventurous sort, he set out upon the trail of the outlier, now full fed, ran it down at the end of four or five miles' hard galloping, pinned the unfortunate creature to the earth and shook it into the long sleep, almost before they had come to a standstill together.
But for that matter this new party was gettin' his full share of attention; everywhere he went there was a trail of kids at his heels, and every time he opened his mouth he made a hit with the grown folks. The women just couldn't keep their eyes offen him, and I seen that Mike was gettin' pretty sore.
Morning and night, now, An-ina looked for the return of those who had set out before the break of the winter. A month had passed since Steve's going. She was quite alone with her boy, with the wakened Indians preparing for their labours of the open season. The "white man officer" would return. An-ina had no fear for him even on the winter trail of Unaga.
He drew back into his lair, and the darkness came down. Despite his hunger, he slept fairly well. In the night a little snow fell at times, but his blanket roof protected him, and he remained dry and warm. The new snow was, in a way, a satisfaction, as it completely hid his trail from the glance of any wandering Indian.
Our next two occur so near together that you will have to represent me at one of them. The Buford cattle, being the last by a few weeks, we will both go up there and see it over with. There are about half a dozen trail foremen anxious for the two other herds, and while they are good men, I don't know of any good reason for not pushing my own boys forward.
He turned back, retracing his steps over the trail, a feeling of resentment of hatred for the man he had never seen slowly taking the place of the oppressive thing that had turned his heart sick within him.
"'But why the Painted Scroll? I said to Ongyatasse; for if, as I supposed, the real message was in the question and answer, I could not see why there should still be a Council called. "'The scroll, said my friend, 'is for those who are meant to be fooled by it. "'But who should be fooled? "'Whoever should stop us on the trail.
They followed its right shore now and soon were out in the Narrow Sea. "We'd better go right on across," said Mercer. "It's too early for Alan to be at the end of the trail. He won't be there till to-night. We can reach the Great City before he starts." They decided to do that, and headed straight out into the sea. They had been cold, sitting there in the wind, and wet to the skin.
"I think we had better have a guide to take us out to the foothills until we shall have found our permanent guide," said the Professor. "No, please don't," urged Tad. "We are plainsmen enough now to he able to find our own way," added Ned. "It's a clear trail. We can see the Rosebud Range from here. That's it over there, isn't it, Mr. Simms?" "Yes," replied the banker.
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