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"
No
use
following
further
!
No
knowing
where
he
's
gone
now
!
No
hope
of
finding
him
except
by
a
fluke
!
If
I
go
back
to
the
creek
I
might
see
him
again
;
but
unless
I
get
within
range
,
it
'll
end
as
it
's
done
before
.
The
mustang
stallion
wo
n't
let
me
come
near
him
--
as
if
the
brute
knows
what
I
'm
wanting
!
"
He
's
even
cunninger
than
the
wild
sort
--
trained
to
it
,
I
suppose
,
by
the
mustanger
himself
.
One
fair
shot
--
if
I
could
only
get
that
,
I
'd
settle
his
courses
.
"
There
appears
no
chance
of
stealing
upon
him
;
and
as
to
riding
him
down
,
it
ca
n't
be
done
with
a
slow
mule
like
this
.
"
The
sorrel
's
not
much
better
as
to
speed
,
though
he
beats
this
brute
in
bottom
.
I
'll
try
him
to-morrow
,
with
the
new
shoe
.
"
If
I
could
only
get
hold
of
something
that
's
fast
enough
to
overtake
the
mustang
!
I
'd
put
down
handsomely
for
a
horse
that
could
do
it
.
"
There
must
be
one
of
the
sort
in
the
settlement
.
I
'll
see
when
I
get
back
.
If
there
be
,
a
couple
of
hundred
,
ay
or
three
,
wo
n't
hinder
me
from
having
him
.
"
After
he
had
made
these
mutterings
Calhoun
rode
away
from
the
chalk
prairie
,
his
dark
countenance
strangely
contrasting
with
its
snowy
sheen
.
He
went
at
a
rapid
rate
;
not
sparing
his
horse
,
already
jaded
with
a
protracted
journey
--
as
could
be
told
by
his
sweating
coat
,
and
the
clots
of
half-coagulated
blood
,
where
the
spur
had
been
freely
plied
upon
his
flanks
.
Fresh
drops
soon
appeared
as
he
cantered
somewhat
heavily
on
--
his
head
set
for
the
hacienda
of
Casa
del
Corvo
.
In
less
than
an
hour
after
,
his
rider
was
guiding
him
among
the
mezquites
that
skirted
the
plantation
.
It
was
a
path
known
to
Calhoun
.
He
had
ridden
over
it
before
,
though
not
upon
the
same
horse
.
On
crossing
the
bed
of
an
arroyo
--
dry
from
a
long
continuance
of
drought
--
he
was
startled
at
beholding
in
the
mud
the
tracks
of
another
horse
.
One
of
them
showed
a
broken
shoe
,
an
old
hoof-print
,
nearly
eight
days
old
.
He
made
no
examination
to
ascertain
the
time
.
He
knew
it
to
an
hour
.
