Allen on the Trail
Although Allen Winthrop was but a young man in years, yet the fact that
he had had the care of the family on his shoulders since the death of
his parents had tended to make him older in experience and give him the
courage to face whatever arose before him in the path of duty.
He was four years older than Chet and two years the senior of Paul, and
the others had always looked upon him as a guiding spirit in all
undertakings.
Consequently but little was said by way of opposition when Allen
determined to go after the thieves alone, but nevertheless the hearts of
both the younger brothers were filled with anxiety when they saw Allen
disappear on the back of his mare up the trail that led to the
southwest.
"It's too bad that we can't accompany him," was the way Chet expressed
himself. "I'd give all I possess for a good horse just now."
"All you possess isn't much, seeing we've all been cleaned out," replied
Paul, with a trace of grim humor he did not really feel. "But I, too,
wish I had a horse and could go along."
"Still, somebody ought to stay on the ranch," went on Chet, "we might
have more unprofitable visitors."
"It's not likely that the gang will dare to show themselves in this
vicinity again in a hurry. Like as not they'll steer for Deadwood, sell
the horses, and then spend their ill-gotten gains around the gambling
saloons. That is their usual style. They can't content themselves in the
mountains or on the plains as long as they have the dust in their
pockets."
After Allen had disappeared the two boys locked up the barn as well as
was possible, using a wooden pin in lieu of the padlock that had been
forced asunder, and then went back to the house. Chet brought in the
string of fish and threw them in a big tin basin.
"I suppose I might as well fry a couple of these," he observed; "though,
to tell the truth, I am not a bit hungry."
"I, too, have lost my appetite," replied Paul. "But we must eat, and
dinner will help pass away the time. I reckon there is no telling when
Allen will be back."
"No. I don't care much, if he only keeps from getting into serious
trouble."
In the meantime Allen had passed down the trail until the buildings of
the ranch were left far behind. He knew the way well, and had no
difficulty in finding the tracks--new ones--made by the hoofs of four
horses.
"As long as they remain as fresh as they are now it will be easy enough
to follow them," was the mental conclusion which he reached, as he urged
forward his tired mare in a way that showed his fondness for the animal
and his disinclination to make her do more than could fairly be
expected.
The belt of cottonwood was soon passed, and Allen emerged upon the bank
of a small brook which flowed into the river at a point nearly half a
mile further on.
He examined the wet bank of the brook minutely and came to the
conclusion that here the horse thieves had stopped the animals for a
drink.
"I imagine they came a long distance to get here," he thought, "and that
means they will go a long way before they settle down for the night.
Heigh-ho! I have a long and difficult search before me."
The brook had been forded, and Allen crossed over likewise, and five
minutes later reached a bit of rolling land dotted here and there with
sage and other brush.
Allen wondered if the trail would lead to Gold Fork, as the little
mining town at the foot of the mountains was called.
"If they went that way I will have no trouble in getting help to run
them down," he said to himself. "I can get Ike Watson and Mat Prigley,
who will go willingly, and there is no better man to take hold of this
sort of thing than Ike Watson."
Mile after mile was passed, and the trail remained as plain as before.
"It looks as if they didn't anticipate being followed," was the way
Allen figured it, but he soon found out his mistake, when, on coming
around a rocky spur of ground, the trail suddenly vanished.
The young ranchman came to a halt in some dismay, and a look of
perplexity quickly stole over his face. He looked to the right and the
left, and ahead, but all to no purpose. The trail was gone.
"Here's a state of things," he murmured as he continued to gaze around.
"Where in the land of goodness has it gone to? They couldn't have taken
wings and flown away."
Allen spent all of a quarter of an hour on the rocky spur. Then on a
venture he moved forward over the bare rocks, feeling pretty certain
that it was the only way they could have gone without leaving tracks
behind them.
He calculated that he had traveled nearly ten miles. His mare showed
signs of being tired, and he spoke to her more kindly than ever.
"It won't do, Lilly," he said, patting her soft neck affectionately. "We
have got to get through somehow or other. You must brace up and when it
is all over you can take the best kind of a long resting spell."
And the faithful animal laid back her ears and appeared to understand
every word he said to her. She was a most knowing creature, and Allen
would have gone wild had she been one of those stolen.
The barren, rocky way lasted for upward of half a mile, and came to an
end in a slight decline covered with rich grass and more brush. Allen
looked about him eagerly.
"Hurrah! there is the trail, true enough!" he cried, as the well
understood marks in the growth beneath his feet met his gaze. "That was
a lucky chance I took. On, Lilly, and we'll have Jasper and Rush back
before nightfall, or know the reason why."
Away flew the mare once more over the plain that stretched before her
for several miles. Beyond were the mountains, covered with a purplish
haze.
The vicinity of the mountains was gained at last, and now, more than
tired, the mare dropped into a walk as the first upward slope was
struck.
Hardly had she done so than Allen saw something that made his heart
jump. It was a man, and he was riding Chet's horse!