horses here. They've sworn in a small army of deputies. Nearly a
hundred men are out hunting for him by this time. One posse was to go
up the San Andres on the east, leaving a man at every waterhole. The
sheriff wired for a special train, took a carload of saddle horses
and dropped a couple of men off at every station. At Upham the rest
of them were to unload and string out across the Jornado, so as to
cut Chris off from the Bar Cross round-up at Alaman. It's some of that
bunch I saw coming, I guess. And the others were to scatter out and
come up the middle of the plain. They'll drag the Jornado with a
fine-toothed comb."

"How's he to get away, then?"

"Cowan took Kit's horse and led his own, which was about give out. He
turned back east, up a draw where he won't be seen unless somebody's
right on top of him. Eight or ten miles out he'll turn Foy's horse
loose; he'll carry the extra saddle on a ways and drop it in a
washout. They'll find Foy's horse and think he's roped a fresh one.
Then Cowan will start up a fresh bunch of mares and raise big dust. He
will ride straight to the first posse he sees, claiming he's run his
horse down chasing the mares. That'll let him out--maybe."

"And Foy?"

"We rode my horse double to the edge of the hills, to where he could
walk on a ledge and leave no tracks," said the Major. "Then I went
on. I rounded up this bunch of saddle horses and brought them back. He
went up on Little Thumb Butte. It's all bluffs and bowlders there. Up
on the highest big cliff, at the very top, is a deep crack that winds
up in a cave like a tunnel. You know the place, Stella?"