"I wonder we have not thought of Vic's absence all this time," I said;
"there she is, on the trail of the thief, wondering why we do not
pursue."
"The good doggie," said Henry. "She did her best to tell us Chiquita
was stolen, and she means to do her best to retake her."
Turning to the governor, I asked, "Are there any Navajos about here?"
"There is a large band in the _cienaga_, three leagues from here. The
lost pony will be found there."
I directed Henry to run after the train and report what had happened.
"Wave your handkerchief," said I, "and some one will come to meet
you. If it should be a mounted man, take his animal, overtake Captain
Bayard, tell him all you know, and say that Frank and I have gone in
pursuit, and that I request him to send a detachment of cavalry to
look us up."
Henry started off with a celerity begotten of his anxiety at the loss
of his pony and the fear that his brother might fall into danger
unless a body of troopers followed him closely.
Frank and I then galloped towards Vic. As soon as the dog saw us
approaching she sprang into the air, shook herself in an ecstasy of
delight, then put her nose to the earth, and went steadily on in
advance, threading her way through clumps of sage-brush and greasewood
and along the ravines.
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