Twice he
dismounted and walked ahead, leaving the chestnut to follow or to wait, at
his word. When they came out on the pipe-line trail, he halted the party,
and, on foot, went carefully over the ground either way from the point
where they stood.
"Boys," he said at last, "I have a hunch that there was a horse on this
trail last night. It's been so blamed dry, and for so long, though, that I
can't be sure. I held you two men because I know you are good trailers.
Follow the pipe-line up the canyon, and see what you can find. It isn't
necessary to say stay with it if you strike anything that even looks like
it might be a lead. Aaron and I will take the other way, and up the Galena
trail to the fire-break."
While Brian Oakley had been searching for signs in the little path, and
the artist, with the others, was waiting, Aaron King's mind went back to
that day when he and Conrad Lagrange had sat there under the oaks and, in
a spirit of irresponsible fun, had committed themselves to the leadership
of Croesus. To the young man, now, that day, with its care-free leisure,
seemed long ago. Remembering the novelist's fanciful oration to the burro,
he thought grimly how unconscious they had been, in their merriment, of
the great issues that did actually rest upon the seemingly trivial
incident.
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