men lay flat, staring down. It was almost a sheer wall, and
the very thought of climbing along the almost impassable path pointed
out by Moore made Westcott dizzy. He had clambered along the ragged
crags of many a mountain in search for gold, but the necessity of
finding blindly in the dark that obscure and perilous passage brought
with it a sensation of horror which he had to fight in order to
conquer. It was such a sheer, precipitous drop, a path--if path it
could be called--so thickly studded with danger the mind actually
recoiled in contemplation.

"You have really been down there, Moore?" he questioned, half
unbelieving.

"Oh, I made it all right," boastfully. "But it's no picnic. I'd hate
like hell to risk it at night, but that's the only chance you fellows
will have to git down. It would be like trap-shootin' for them Mexes
if you tried it now."

They lay there for some time talking to each other, and staring down at
the strange scene so far beneath them, and which appeared almost like a
painted picture within its dark frame of towering rocks and wide
expanse of sand. Except for the rather restless herd of cattle there
was little movement perceptible--a herder or two could be distinguished
riding here and there on some duty; there was a small horse corral a
short distance to their right, with something like a dozen ponies
confined within, and a bunch of saddles piled outside the fence. Once
a man came out of the bunk-house and went down to the stream for a
bucket of water, returning leisurely. He wore the braided jacket and
high, wide-brimmed hat of the Mexican peon, and spurs glittered on his
boot-heels. Beyond this the cabins below gave no sign of occupancy.
Moore pointed out to them the main trail leading across the valley and
winding up along the front of the opposite wall. They could trace it a
large part of the way, but it disappeared entirely as it approached the
summit.

The three men, wearied with looking, and knowing there was nothing more
to do, except wait for night, crept back into the sand hollow and
nibbled away at the few eatables brought with them in their pockets.
Brennan alone seemed cheerful and talkative--Moore had liberally
divided with him his stock of chewing-tobacco.

CHAPTER XXXI: WITH FORCE OF ARMS

They were still sitting there cross-legged in the sand when the silence
was suddenly punctuated by the sharp report of a revolver. The sound
barely reached their e