"I must do it, I must do it," he kept muttering to himself, "for it's
bad going after that, and it'll take us all some time to find him."
He was lessening the distance between them with every long, powerful
stride of his horse, but already the three rocks, gaunt and high, loomed
before him as if forming an impassable barrier across the road.
Suddenly, just as Jose and Gallito had almost reached them and the
sheriff was gaining upon the fugitives in great leaps, he saw them
swerve their horses aside and dash into a clump of trees to the right of
the rocks.
"Oh, the fools! the fools! I got 'em now. Instead of going for the
rocks, they've made for the trees."
A few minutes later he and his men found the horses ridden by Gallito
and Jose blown and hard-breathing among the trees, but no trace could
they discover of the men they sought. Beyond the three rocks the
character of the hills changed strikingly. Instead of the wide,
undulating, wooded plateau, over which riding was so easy, the mountains
suddenly seemed split by mighty gashes, a great pocket of crevasses and
towering cliffs.
The sheriff and his men beat about aimlessly and conscientiously for
several hours, but in vain. Jose and Gallito had long before "hit" the
secret trail. So finally the sheriff, who was inclined to put less faith
than ever in Hanson's representations, and convinced in his own mind
that Gallito was merely conniving at the escape of an unregenerate
brother, and that Mrs.
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