It may be doubted whether any incident in his stormy life had ever thrown the guide into such a rage as this occurrence. He turned his head like a flash and glared at the point from which the shot had come. He detected the faint blue wreath curling upward from behind a huge boulder and was off his horse in a twinkling. His friends saw him dash up the cliff and pass from sight. They did not check the train, but since they were following a well marked trail, were confident he would soon return. When night closed in, however, and they went into camp he was still absent.