dogs.

They passed a couple of corrals, rode over springy sod where Bud dimly
discerned hay stubble. Eddie let down a set of bars, replaced them
carefully, and they crossed another meadow. It struck Bud that the
Catrockers were fairly well entrenched in their canyon, with plenty of
horse feed at least.

They followed a twisting trail along the canyon's wall, rode into
another pit of darkness, came out into a sandy stretch that seemed
hazily familiar to Bud. They crossed this, dove into the bushes
following a dim trail, and in ten minutes Eddie's horse backed suddenly
against Sunfish's nose. Bud stood in his stirrups, reins held firmly in
his left hand, and in his right his six-shooter with the hammer lifted,
ready to snap down.

A tall figure stepped away from the peaked rocks and paused at Bud's
side.

"I been waiting for Marian," he said bluntly. "You know anything about
her?"

"She turned back last night after she had shown me the way." Bud's
throat went dry. "Did they miss her?" He leaned aggressively.

"Not till breakfast time, they didn't. I was waiting here, most all
night--except right after you folks left. She wasn't missed, and I never
flagged her--and she ain't showed up yet!"

Bud sat there stunned, trying to think what might have happened. Those
dark passages through the mountains--the ledge-- "Ed, you know that
trail she took me over? She was coming back that way. She could get
lost--"

"No she couldn't--not Sis. If her horse didn't act the fool--what horse
was it she rode?" Ed turned to Jerry as if he would know.

"Boise," Bud spoke quickly, as though seconds were precious. "She said
he knew the way."

"He sure ought to," Eddie replied emphatically. "Boise belongs to Sis,
by rights. The mare got killed and Dad gave him to Sis when he was a
suckin' colt, and Sis raised him on cow's milk and broke him herself.
She rode him all over. Lew took and sold him to Dave, and gambled the
money, and Sis never signed no bill of sale. They couldn't make her.
Sis has got spunk, once you stir her up. She'll tackle anything. She's
always claimed Boise is hers. Boise knows the Gap like a book. Sis
couldn't get off the trail if she rode him."

"Something happened, then," Bud muttered stubbornly. "Four men came
through behind us, and we waited out in the dark to let them pass. Then
she sent me down to the creek-bottom, and she turned back. If they got
her--" He turned Sunfish in the narrow brush trail. "She's