Slone led his horse and walked on, more and more disturbed in mind.  When he came to a larger, bare, flat canyon bottom, where the rock had been washed clear of sand, he found no more cedar berries.  They had been picked up.  At the other extreme edge of this stony ground he found crumpled bits of cedar and cedar berries scattered in one spot, as if thrown there by some one who read their meaning.

This discovery unnerved Slone.  It meant so much.  And if Slone had any hope or reason to doubt that these strangers had taken up the trail for good, the next few miles dispelled it.  They were trailing Creech.

Suddenly Slone gave a wild start, which made Wildfire plunge.

“Cordts!” whispered Slone and the cold sweat oozed out of every pore.

These canyons were the hiding-places of the horse-thief.  He and two of his men had chanced upon Creech’s trail; and perhaps their guess at its meaning was like Slone’s.  If they had not guessed they would soon learn.  It magnified Slone’s task a thousandfold.  He had a moment of bitter, almost hopeless realization before a more desperate spirit awoke in him.  He had only more men to kill—­that was all.  These upland riders did not pack rifles, of that Slone was sure.  And the sooner he came up with Cordts the better.  It was then he let Wildfire choose his gait and the trail.  Sunset, twilight, dusk, and darkness came with Slone keeping on and on.  As long as there were no intersecting canyons or clefts or slopes by which Creech might have swerved from his course, just so long Slone would travel.  And it was late in the night when he had to halt.

Early next day the trail led up out of the red and broken gulches to the cedared uplands.  Slone saw a black-rimmed, looming plateau in the distance.  All these winding canyons, and the necks of the high ridges between, must run up to that great table-land.

That day he lost two of the horse tracks.  He did not mark the change for a long time after there had been a split in the party that had been trailing Creech.  Then it was too late for him to go back to investigate, even if that had been wise.  He kept on, pondering, trying to decide whether or not he had been discovered and was now in danger of ambush ahead and pursuit from behind.  He thought that possibly Cordts had split his party, one to trail along after Creech, the others to work around to head him off.  Undoubtedly Cordts knew this broken canyon country and could tell where Creech was going, and knew how to intercept him.

The uncertainty wore heavily upon Slone.  He grew desperate.  He had no time to steal along cautiously.  He must be the first to get to Creech.  So he held to the trail and went as rapidly as the nature of the ground would permit, expecting to be shot at from any clump of cedars.  The trail led down again into a narrow canyon with low walls.  Slone put all his keenness on what lay before him.