I wish I knew just how far he is ahead of us." Then he added in explanation: "I went east for a while, but I was raised in this country, and this is 'way easier than trailing a deer." They went on a little faster after that, for Devine had promptly picked up the trail again, and by the time the red sun had cleared the range it led them out of the brulee and into a waste of rock and gravel, where there were smaller firs and strips of tangled undergrowth.

Here and there Devine stopped for a few minutes, but he found the trail again, though it led them through thickets, and now and then they floundered among half-rotten fallen trunks and branches.
Fortunately, the horse was a Cayuse and used to that kind of work.
It rapidly grew hotter, until the perspiration streamed from them, and Weston, who had eaten very little the previous evening, became conscious of an unpleasant stitch in his side; but they pushed on without flagging, urged by a growing anxiety.

At length the ground, which was a little clearer, rose sharply in front of them.

Weston pulled up the pack-horse and looked significantly at Devine, who nodded.
"Yes," he assented, "he said a low divide.

The lake lay just beyond it." Then he cast about with his eyes fixed on the loose gravel over which they had scrambled, until he came to a spot where a wide patch of half-rotted needles lay beneath another belt of pines.
"He stopped here and sat down," he commented.