“None,” replied Ned, examining the horizon line.  “There is absolutely nothing within view on the plains.”

“Don’t you fret about ’em.  They’ll come.  They’ll spread out and pick up our trail just as they do every morning.”

Obed spoke dispassionately, as if he and Ned were not concerned in it.  His predictions were justified.  Before night they saw the Lipans coming as usual in a close group, now at a distance of about three miles.  Ned could not keep from shuddering.  They were as implacable as fate.  Night, the storm and bullets did not stop them.  They could not shake them off in the immense spaces of plain and desert.  A kind of horror seized him.  Such tenacity must triumph.  Was it possible that Obed and he would fall victims after all?  At least it seemed sure that in the end they would be overtaken, and Ned began to count the odds in a fight.  Anything seemed better than this interminable flight.

They were cheered a little by the aspect of the country, which began to change considerably for the better.  The cactus reappeared and then a few trees, lonesome and ragged, but trees, nevertheless.  It is wonderful how much humanity a tree has in a sad and sandy land.  The soil grew much firmer and soon they saw clumps of buffalo grass.  Several small groups of buffalo were also visible.

“There’s better country ahead, as you see,” said Obed.  “Besides, I’ve been along this way before.  We’ll strike water by dark.”

They reached a tiny brook just as the twilight came, at which both they and their horses drank.  They also took the time to wash their hands and faces, but they dared not delay any longer for fear of being overtaken by the Lipans.  The night and the following day passed in the same manner as the others, and the horses of Ned and Obed, splendid animals though they were, began to show signs of fatigue.  One limped a little.  The dreaded was happening.  The Indian ponies made only of bone and muscle were riding them down.

On the other hand, the character of the country now encouraged the fugitives.  The yucca and the mesquite turned into oak.  They passed through large groves and they hoped that they might soon enter a great forest in which they could hide their trail wholly from the Lipans.  They crossed two considerable streams, knee deep on the horses, and then they entered the forest for which they had hoped so much.  It was of oaks without much undergrowth and the ground was hilly.  They rode through it until past midnight.  Then they stopped by the edge of a blue pool, and while the other watched with the rifle each took the bath that he had coveted so long.

“I feel that I can fight battles and also run better now that I’ve got rid of ten pounds of sand and dust,” said Obed, “and I guess you feel the same way, Ned.  I suppose you’ve noticed that the other horse has gone lame, too?”

“Yes, I noticed it.  I don’t believe either could make much speed to-morrow.”