Noting that the signs turned to the left, he did the same. A dozen paces brought him to a depression through which it seemed likely the pony had gone. He followed and coming up the opposite side made sure by lighting another match. The footprints were not visible.
He retraced his steps and went farther to the left. Coming to a level spot, he resorted to his tiny torch again. He was right; Bucephalus had chosen the easier course, though how the sagacious animal knew of its existence was beyond guessing.
By this time Alden understood that at the rate he was using his matches, they could not last beyond an hour or less. He slackened his pace and studied his surroundings with the utmost care. Only when absolutely necessary did he intend to ignite his lucifers.
He had never heard of the methods employed by veteran trailers, though Shagbark had practised them, but reflection caused Alden to try this one. He stooped and gently passed one hand over the soft earth. A few minutes of effort told him he was on the trail of the pony.
He had straightened up and was walking cautiously, when he was startled by the reports
