Читать книгу Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders at Circle O Ranch онлайн

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“Here! Take my pocket lamp,” said Grace, thrusting it into his hand.

“Thankee, Miss,” growled Jim, and began sweeping the rays from the lamp over the ground in front of the bunk-house door. “Here’s whar the critter stood when he let go,” announced Jim. “Anybody recognize them boot-prints?”

No one did, and Jim went on nosing out the trail, which he followed for several rods down the valley, though the footprints were mixed with the tracks of cowpunchers and ponies. Jim continued his tracking until he reached a point where the shooter had met and mounted a pony, on which he dashed away straight for the hills. Those hoof-prints were of keen interest to Jim-Sam. They were the prints of unshod hoofs, and the two men looked at each other with a meaning gaze.

“I reckon the feller was shootin’ with his left hand, an’ that’s why he missed,” observed Sam.

“I reckon,” agreed Jim.

“What have you got, Conifer?” called Joe Bindloss, dashing up on his pony.

The men explained what they had found, and the old rancher raged and stormed, declaring that he would get the fellow, that he would set his cowpunchers on the trail at once to follow it until they did get the man.