From time to time the latter stopped and consulted the faint trail with a minuteness that showed recent careful study.  Suddenly he paused.  “I made a blaze hereabouts to show where to leave the trail.  There it is,” he added, pointing to a slight notch cut in the trunk of an adjoining tree.

“But we’ve just passed one,” said Dunn, “if that’s what you are looking after, a hundred yards back.”

Brace uttered an oath, and ran back in the direction signified by his companion.  Presently he returned with a smile of triumph.

“They’ve suspected something.  It’s a clever trick, but it won’t hold water.  That blaze which was done to muddle you was cut with an axe; this which I made was done with a bowie-knife.  It’s the real one.  We’re not far off now.  Come on.”

They proceeded cautiously, at right angles with the “blazed” tree, for ten minutes more.  The heat was oppressive; drops of perspiration rolled from the forehead of the sheriff, and at times, when he attempted to steady his uncertain limbs, his hands shrank from the heated, blistering bark he touched with ungloved palms.

“Here we are,” said Brace, pausing at last.  “Do you see that biggest tree, with the root stretching out halfway across to the opposite one?”

“No, it’s further to the right and abreast of the dead brush,” interrupted Dunn quickly, with a sudden revelation that this was the spot where he had found the dead bear in the night Teresa escaped.

“That’s so,” responded Brace, in astonishment.

“And the opening is on the other side, opposite the dead brush,” said Dunn.

“Then you know it?” said Brace suspiciously.

“I reckon!” responded Dunn, grimly.  “That’s enough!  Fall back!”

To the surprise of his companion, he lifted his head erect, and with a strong, firm step walked directly to the tree.  Reaching it, he planted himself squarely before the opening.

“Halloo!” he said.

There was no reply.  A squirrel scampered away close to his feet.  Brace, far in the distance, after an ineffectual attempt to distinguish his companion through the intervening trunks, took off his coat, leaned against a tree, and lit a cigar.

“Come out of that cabin!” continued Dunn, in a clear, resonant voice.  “Come out before I drag you out!”

“All right, ‘Captain Scott.’  Don’t shoot, and I’ll come down,” said a voice as clear and as high as his own.  The hanging strips of bark were dashed aside, and a woman leaped lightly to the ground.

Dunn staggered back.  “Teresa! by the Eternal!”

It was Teresa! the old Teresa!  Teresa, a hundred times more vicious, reckless, hysterical, extravagant, and outrageous than before.  Teresa, staring with tooth and eye, sunburnt and embrowned, her hair hanging down her shoulders, and her shawl drawn tightly around her neck.

“Teresa it is! the same old gal!  Here we are again!  Return of the favorite in her original character!  For two weeks only!  Houp la!  Tshk!” and, catching her yellow skirt with her fingers, she pirouetted before the astounded man, and ended in a pose.  Recovering himself with an effort, Dunn dashed forward and seized her by the wrist.