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Show signs. In three hours ho liaa reached ! another camp fire. It was bnilt near a i spring bubbling out of the rocks, and j water was thrown on the flames to quench them. It was not thoroughly done, however. Fire clings to several sticks, and the j earth nmler tin ashes is warm. The lira ; was built Tuesday night. The white j man left it about a o'clock this (Wedne.s- j day) morning. It is now 4 o'clock p. in. I Hd is only eight hours ahead, and there ! are still three hours of daylight. ! TUB VICTIM. ! Haslio traveled fast or leisurely? Is he a dozen miles nway or only three or j four? The question is answered before I the Indian has pursued tho trail half a i mile. The white man has stopped to break off a piece of rock with his ham- j nier. He is n prospector. Ilognca up this ravine half a mile and returns. Ho leaps this creek to examine the face of the cliff passes an hour or more inspecting in-specting the sand and gravel in tho bod of the creek. It is a locality of promise. There is no hurry. "Ugh!" It is twilight iu the forest night in tho canyons and gorges. The Indian has no trail to follow, but there is an instinct which leads him on. He knows ho is close on the quarry. He moves swiftly but stealthily. There are rocks and bushes and limbs and vines and pitfalls, but he seems to seo them in the darkness as well as in the light. The flamo of a camp fire has canght his eye. A man clothed in the coarse garment of a miner sits with his back to a rock, j On the lire at his feet his meat is toast- ; ing and his coffee is boiling. The silence about him is that of tho grave. His surroundings sur-roundings are bowlders, cliffs, ledges, ravines, trees. It is a wild, weird spot. Nature was in a vindictive mood when she made it. One sitting here alone at high noon would feel a chill of loneliness. loneli-ness. The man looks into the tire. For a moment his thoughts aro elsewhere. Of a sudden that mysterious something, that current which passes between life and death, electrifies him, and with his gaze riveted into the darkness beyond the fire ho springs to his feet. Too late! Tho Indian is not thirty , feet away, but before he can lay a hand on the body life has departed. When a : bulU t strikes tho human heart life is measured by seconds and fractions of seconds. Detroit Fret) Tress. j yA HUMAN BLOODHOUND. INSTINCT GUIDES THE INDIAN ON HiS DEATH MISSION. A firar'ilo Account or an Almost Trackless Track-less I'nrsult llow tlelntutorel Kavaica 11owh and Finds His Victim Tho Camp Fire's IJeadly Evidence. "Hist!" A single Indian has been following the right hand bank of the Hio Tocos river where it trends to the angle of the Chico mountains, New Mexico. Fort Sumner is 50 miles to tho south, Santa Fo 100 to tho north. It is a wild, weird country, with tho staked plains sweeping right up to tho water of the Tecos from tho east, and tho country to i the west is forest, ravine, valley and j desolation. " In a dip of tho earth, and still further Fhielded by great bowlders, tho Indian j has found a few charred sticks and a j handful of ashes relics of a camp fire. ; He springs to the cover of a rook, and j for a quarter of an hour nothing is seen j or heard of him. Instinct taught him i that the samo instinct that any wild : animal has. By and by ho carefully rises into view and steps forward to ts- j amine the ashes. ! "Ugh!" It rained three days before. The ashes Bre dry. The black sticks preserve t heir gloss. A twig broken from a bush is ' still bleeding. A bono in the nshes is ; broken to get at the marrow. This is Wednesday, and tho hour is 10 o'clock in tho forenoon. That fire was built Monday noon. The prints tt a boot heel are numerous. It was a whito man. The prints are exactly alike. There was but ono man scout, hunter or prospector. pros-pector. He was heading up the stream. "Ugh!" OS THE TRAIL. Everything is clear to tho Indian in five minutes, and ho picks up the trail. It is forty-six hours since that tire was lighted at least forty-fonr sinco the white man left it-behind. That is nn old trail, bu here is a human bloodhound. blood-hound. Nature luis made him to endure beat, cold and fatigue as if ho were an Animal. Ho lets the cunning of a fox, iivi ferocity of a p.ir.ther and a vindictive vindic-tive persistency which nothing buc death can discourage. There is no trail nothing which the kr-enest dog could follow. But tho Indian In-dian glides forward like a shadow, looking look-ing only at the Jay of the ground. A man who travels without fear takes the ea.-.kst road. A ra:m who is not pursued travels slowly. To the right to the left over rocks across riila up hill down hill never flagging, no matter what, tho obstructions, and at the end of three hours ho turns sharply to the left, penetrates pene-trates the cedars for a few yards and comes f o a halt before another camp fire. ; A branch among the ashes gives out : a faint smoke. The ashes are still warm. The tire was built Monday night, and ever its flame tho whitS man cooked his Tuesday breakfast. This is Wednesday fct 1 o'clock. The wliite man has been moving slowly. Half an hour for rest and a bite to eat and the Indian moves forward again. Here and there as he flies along lie sees a broken branch the moss torn from a J rock the leaves disturbed plenty of fans that rome one has passed that way. The scent is too old for a bloodhound; neilb.tr panther nor wolf could r.i th |