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And so another night passed. Upon the following morning, ten miles or more up the slow-ascending lava slope, Gale's attention was called from his somber search for the less rough places in the trail. "Dick, why does Yaqui look back?" asked Mercedes. Gale was startled. "Does he?" "Every little while," replied Mercedes.
Queen took to a slow-ascending ridge and left his bloody tracks all the way to the top, where in the gathering darkness the weary pursuer lost them. Another night passed. Daylight was relentless to the rustler. He could not hide his trail.