"You can notice Monte's," said the Virginian. "He is the only one that has his hind feet shod. There's several trails from this point down to where we have come from."
We mounted now over a long slant of rock, smooth and of wide extent Above us it went up easily into a little side canon, but ahead, where our way was, it grew so steep that we got off and led our horses. This brought us to the next higher level of the mountain, a space of sage-brush more open, where the rain-washed tracks appeared again in the softer ground.
"Some one has been here since the rain," I called to the Virginian, who was still on the rock, walking up behind the packhorses.
"Since the rain!" he exclaimed. "That's not two days yet." He came and examined the foot-prints. "A man and a hawss," he said, frowning. "Going the same way we are. How did he come to pass us, and us not see him?"
"One of the other trails," I reminded him.
"Yes, but there's not many that knows them. They are pretty rough trails."
"Worse than this one we're taking?"
"Not much; only how does he come to know any of them? And why don't he take the Conant trail that's open and easy and not much longer? One man and a hawss. I don't see who he is or what he wants here."
"Probably a prospector," I suggested.
"Only one outfit of prospectors has ever been here, and they claimed there was no mineral-bearing rock in these parts."
We got back into our saddles with the mystery
