A thick blue smoke soon ascended high into the heavens; and the brothers stood with searching eyes that scrutinised the prairie in all directions.
"He must be far off if he cannot see that," remarked Lucien.

"It should be visible for ten miles around, I should think!" "At least that much," answered Basil; "but he would not be long in getting ten miles away.

The chase might have carried him a good part; and, finding himself lost, he would soon gallop the rest." "Unless," suggested Lucien, "he may have ridden about, as you did, upon his own trail." "No, he would not be likely.

Poor little Francois would not think of it; he has not enough craft for that; and, indeed, I almost hope that he has not done so." "Why do you hope so ?" inquired Lucien.
"Because we will stand a better chance of making out his trail if he has gone straight forward." "True, true," rejoined Lucien, and both again were silent, and stood watching the prairie openings with anxious eyes.
They remained for a considerable time, but at length turned to each other with countenances that exhibited a disappointed and sad expression.
"He is not coming," said Lucien, in a sorrowful tone.
"No; he would have been up long since.

He would be certain to gallop if he had seen the smoke.