All night long the posse rode, and had they not taken a wrong trail,
would have caught up to the robbers at their first camp.

Retracing their path, a short halt only was made, saddle girths were
tightened, the rifles closely inspected, and Chip, giving the cry of
"Forward," led the company on the hot scent.

Like a good general, Chip spread his men to the right and left of the
trail, so that in moving forward a wide swath of country was swept.

The first camp which the outlaws had made was discovered by the scout on
the left flank. Raising the Texan yell, the rank closed in and gathered
around the spot.

One of the men, an old Indian hunter, burnt by the sun to living bronze,
and scarred by the many hand-to-hand conflicts he had had with the red
savages, leaped from his horse, his keen eyes fastened to the ground,
read the signs which the outlaws had left as if they were printed words.

Pointing to the fire and the remnants of the burnt meat and bones near
it, he said:

"They ain't more'n three hours ahead of us, and there's more than the
two. Three fellars ate their grub here this morning."

"How do you make that out?" said Chip.

"Well, Cap'n, I've fit Ingins and herded cattle more'n twenty year, off
an' on, and if there ain't been three men here not over three hour ago,