Carson had proven the mettle of his steed, and he now showed him
no mercy. The trail indicated he was gaining rapidly and he was
anxious to force matters to an issue before night. Among the horses
the Indian was running off were one or two whose endurance was less
than the others. Their tardiness moderated the pace of the rest,
and thus gave Kit a chance of lessening the distance between him
and the fugitive.

At the end of the ten miles he scanned the ground in front, but
nothing was seen of the thief or his horses; but the hoof prints
were fresh and the scout knew he was closer to him than at any
time since the chase began. The flanks of his steed shone with
perspiration and froth, but it would not do to lag now. The lips
were compressed and the gray eye flashed fire as before.

Ten more miles were speedily thrown behind him, and he knew he was
not far from the dusky desperado, who doubtless was continually
glancing backward in quest of pursuers; but the keen vision which
swept around every portion of the visible horizon, discovered no
sign of the thief.

Carson anticipated some attempt on the part of the fugitive to
confuse pursuit and he, therefore, watched the hoof prints more
closely than ever. The eagle eye continually glanced from the ground
to the country in front, and then to the right and left. Nothing
escaped his vision, but when his foamy steed had thundered over
another ten miles the fugitive was still beyond sight.

"He can't be far off," was the thought of Carson, "I'm bound to