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.
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