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It
'll
gie
me
the
makin
'
o
'
another
ten-mile
jurney
,
an
thur
mout
n't
be
time
.
Dog-goned
ef
I
do
n't
try
a
leetle
way
along
it
.
The
ole
maar
kin
wait
till
I
kum
back
.
"
Bracing
himself
for
a
new
investigation
,
he
started
off
upon
the
cattle-track
,
trodden
by
the
horses
of
Spangler
and
his
party
.
To
the
hoof-marks
of
these
he
paid
but
slight
attention
;
at
times
,
none
whatever
.
His
eye
only
sought
those
of
Henry
Poindexter
's
horse
.
Though
the
others
were
of
an
after
time
,
and
often
destroyed
the
traces
he
was
most
anxious
to
examine
,
he
had
no
difficulty
in
identifying
the
latter
.
As
he
would
have
himself
said
,
any
greenhorn
could
do
that
.
The
young
planter
's
horse
had
gone
over
the
ground
at
a
gallop
.
The
trackers
had
ridden
slowly
.
As
far
as
Zeb
Stump
could
perceive
,
the
latter
had
made
neither
halt
nor
deviation
.
The
former
had
.
It
was
about
three-quarters
of
a
mile
from
the
edge
of
the
venue
.
It
was
not
a
halt
the
galloping
horse
had
made
,
but
only
a
slight
departure
from
his
direct
course
;
as
if
something
he
had
seen
--
wolf
,
jaguar
,
cougar
,
or
other
beast
of
prey
--
had
caused
him
to
shy
.
Beyond
he
had
continued
his
career
;
rapid
and
reckless
as
ever
.
Beyond
the
party
along
with
Spangler
had
proceeded
--
without
staying
to
inquire
why
the
horse
had
shied
from
his
track
.
Zeb
Stump
was
more
inquisitive
,
and
paused
upon
this
spot
.
It
was
a
sterile
tract
,
without
herbage
,
and
covered
with
shingle
and
sand
.
A
huge
tree
overshadowed
it
,
with
limbs
extending
horizontally
.
