iles of slow ascent up to the rough divide, the gradual
descent to the cedars--these stretches of his journey took the night
hours and ended with the brightening gray in the east. Within a mile
of Silver Cup Spring Hare dismounted, to tie folded pads of buckskin on
Bolly's hoofs. When her feet were muffled, he cautiously advanced on the
trail for the matter of a hundred rods or more; then sheered off to the
right into the cedars. He led Bolly slowly, without rattling a stone
or snapping a twig, and stopped every few paces to listen. There was
no sound other than the wind in the cedars. Presently, with a gasp,
he caught the dull gleam of a burned-out camp-fire. Then his movements
became as guarded, as noiseless as those of a scouting Indian. The dawn
broke over the red wall as he gained the trail beyond the spring.

He skirted the curve of the valley and led Bolly a little way up the
wooded slope to a dense thicket of aspens in a hollow. This thicket
encircled a patch of grass. Hare pressed the lithe aspens aside to admit
Bolly and left her there free. He drew his rifle from its sheath and,
after assuring himself that the mustang could not be seen or heard from
below, he bent his steps diagonally up the slope.

Every foot of this ground he knew, and he climbed swiftly until he
struck the mountain trail. Then, descending, he entered the cedars. At
last he reached a point directly above the cliff-camp where he had spent
so many days, and this he knew overhung the cabin built by Holderness.
He stole down from tree to tree and slipped from thicket to thicket. The
sun, red as blood, raised a bright crescent over the red wall; the
soft mists of the valley began to glow and move; cattle were working in
toward the spring. Never brushing a branch, never dislodging a stone,
Hare descended the slope, his eyes keener, his ears sharper with every
step. Soon the edge of the gray stone cliff below shut out the lower
level of cedars. While resting he listened. Then he marked his course
down the last bit of slanting ground to the cliff bench which faced the
valley. This space was open, rough with crumbling rock and dead cedar
brush--a difficult place to cross without sound. Deliberate in his
choice of steps, very slow in moving, Hare went on with a stealth which
satisfied even his intent ear. When the wide gray strip of stone drew
slowly into the circle of his downcast gaze he sank to the ground with a
slight trembling in all his limbs.