He fought it off and succeeded in repressing it for a time, but he could do so no longer.
"Fred didn't seem to give any meaning to that awful look of the Sioux when he started to walk away, but I saw what it meant, though I never dreamed the blow would fall so soon." His heart was depressed almost beyond bearing, and the anguish was deepened by the fact that he could see no way of helping his friend.

The only thing possible was to follow as nearly as he could the course taken by Fred, but there was no certainty of that.

He knew he had turned to the right when he left the crest of the ridge, after which there had been no glimpse of him.
"But he made for a point over yonder," reflected Jack, "and there I'll search for him." This was exceedingly indefinite, but it was better than standing idle.
The antelope had long since vanished, and there was no need of care in his progress--rather otherwise, since he desired to attract the notice of his friend.

Jack broke into a loping trot, emitting the familiar signal so often used by both, calling his name, and even firing his rifle in air; but there came back no response, and his fears deepened.
Jack was in the mood to be unjust.
"I don't understand Hank Hazletine's action.

He sets out to take us on a hunt among the mountains, and then goes off and leaves us alone.