The sign of both rabbit and coyote veered suddenly, and again the trail told the reason clearly--the big print of a lobo's paw, that gray ghost which haunts the ranges with the wisest brain and the swiftest feet in the West.

Vic Gregg grinned with excitement; fifty dollars' bounty if that scalp were his! But the story of the trail called him back with the sign of some small animal which must have traveled very slowly, for in spite of the tiny size of the prints, each was distinct.

The man sniffed with instinctive aversion and distrust for this was the trail of the skunk, and if the last of the seven sleepers was out, it was spring indeed.

He raised his cudgel and thwacked the burro joyously.
"Get on, Marne," he cried.

"We're overdue in Alder." Marne switched her tail impatiently and canted back a long ear to listen, but she did not increase her pace; for Marne had only one gait, and if Vic occasionally thumped her, it was rather by way of conversation than in any hope of hurrying their journey..