"There is nothing to do but to remain where we are until morning,"
Mr. Hardy said. "The horses had better be picketed, and then those
who can had better get a few hours' more sleep. We shall want no
more watch to-night." In a few minutes most of the party were again
asleep; and the young Hardys were about to follow their example,
when Mr. Hardy came up to them and said quietly, "Come this way,
boys; we are going to have a council."
The boys followed their father to where some eight or nine men were
sitting down at a short distance from the sleepers, and these the
boys made out, by the glow from their pipes, to consist of Herries
and Farquhar, the two Jamiesons, Mr. Percy, and the four Gauchos.
"This is a terribly bad business," Mr. Hardy began, when he and his
sons had taken their seats on the ground. "I expected it, but it is
a heavy blow nevertheless."
"Why, what is the matter, papa?" the boys exclaimed anxiously.
"Have we lost anything?"
"Yes, boys," Mr. Hardy said; "we have lost what is at this moment
the most important thing in the world--we have lost the trail."
Charley and Hubert uttered a simultaneous exclamation of dismay as
the truth flashed across their minds. "The trail was lost!" They
had never thought of this. In the excitement of the fire, it had
never once occurred to them that the flames were wiping out every
trace of the Indian track.
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