trail, and the labor was comparatively easy. He walked to the nearest boulder and sat down. The night had grown more chilly and he shivered. He always carried a box of matches in a small rubber safe, it was easy to collect enough twigs and branches to start a fire.
Two causes, however, prevented his doing this. He could not forget that signal smoke which told that Indians were not far off. The blaze was likely to draw them to the spot. Again, his mind was in such a tumult, that he could not sit still. He must keep moving.
There was no moon in the sky, but the millions of stars were never more brilliant. In the clear atmosphere they gave enough illumination to show quite well where he trod, except when threading through the willows or passing close to the towering masses of rocks. Inasmuch as he had decided to keep up the effort to reach the next station, the obvious thing to do was to follow in the hoof prints left by the pony. Doubtless he was making for the station and would reach it within the coming hour. What would the agents think when he dashed up without rider, saddle or mail pouches? What could they think except that the man had been killed and the bags stolen?
