“We’ll find the Colonel all right,” said Major Harlow, confidently, “the horse will show us the way.”

Major Harlow rode in front with Sergeant McGillicuddy, who led Gamechick, his head hanging down, looking the picture of shame but carefully retracing his steps.  Behind them rode Mrs. Fortescue and Anita, and then came a small escort.  Gamechick, walking wearily in advance over the frozen snow, suddenly lifted his head and gave a loud whinnying of joy, and at the same moment his tired legs seemed to gain new strength, and he started off in a brisk trot.

“He has caught the trail, Mrs. Fortescue,” called back Major Harlow, turning his head and meeting Mrs. Fortescue’s glance; her face was pale and so was Anita’s, but the eyes of both were undaunted.

Gamechick trotted ahead, sometimes faltering and going around in a circle, the escort waiting patiently until he once more found his own tracks.  They were still a mile away from the entrance of the mountain pass when Anita, looking up into the clear dark blue sky where the palpitating stars were coming out, saw the blue smoke curling upward from the pass.

“Daddy and Mr. Broussard have made a fire,” she cried.

“Is Mr. Broussard with the Colonel?” asked Major Harlow, in surprise.  Until then, no one had spoken Broussard’s name, or knew he was with Colonel Fortescue.

“I think so,” replied Anita, “I was watching my father as he rode toward the main entrance and I saw Mr. Broussard join him and they rode off together.”

When they reached the rugged mountain road, the horses, with rough-shod feet, scrambled up like cats.  Now the searching party could not only see the blue smoke floating above their heads, but they perceived a delicate odor of burning fir branches.  When they reached a spot in the pass where a bridle path diverged Gamechick halted, putting his nose to the ground as he stepped about and then throwing back his head in disappointment.

In the midst of the stillness came the sound of a voice; Broussard was trolling out a ballad in Spanish which he had learned in the far-off jungles of the Philippines.  Mrs. Fortescue glanced at Anita.  A brilliant smile and a warm blush illuminated the girl’s face.  The mother smiled; she knew the old, old story that Anita’s violet eyes were telling.

Major Harlow raised a ringing cheer in which Sergeant McGillicuddy and the officers and troopers joined.  An answering cheer came back.  It was unnecessary then for Gamechick to show the way by galloping ahead.

Within five minutes the pass was full of cavalrymen.  Mrs. Fortescue, down on her knees in the snow, was examining Colonel Fortescue’s broken ankle.  Anita, for once losing the quiet reserve that was hers by nature, was sitting by the Colonel, her arm around his neck, her cheek against his, and the tears were dropping on her cheeks.

“Oh, daddy,” she was whispering, “I knew that something had happened to you and that I must come to you, and that was why I begged and prayed my mother to come with me, and now we have found you, we have found you!”