retreat. To halt within the
defile--even had a halting-place offered--would have been perilous above
all things. There was no spot, where we could conceal either ourselves
or our animals. The mounted Indians might be returning down again; and,
finding us in such a snug trap, would have us at their mercy? We did
not think, therefore, of staying where we were. To go back was too
discouraging. We were already half through the canon, and had ridden
over a most difficult path--often fording the stream at great risk, and
climbing over boulders of rock, that imperilled the necks, both of
ourselves and our animals. We determined to keep on.

We were in hopes that the Indians had by this time passed clear through
the gorge, and ridden out into the valley above. In that case there
would be no great risk in our proceeding to the upper end. Our
expectations did not deceive us. We reached the mouth of the chasm--
without having seen other signs of those who had proceeded us, than the
tracks of their horses.

We had heard sounds, however, that had given us some apprehension--the
reports of guns--not as during the early part of the day, in single
shots, but in half-dozens at a time, and once or twice in large
volleys--as if of a scattering _fusillade_! The sounds came from the
direction of the upper valley; and were but faintly heard--so faintly
that we were in doubt, as to whether they were the reports of fire-arms.
The grumbling and rushing of the river hindered us from hearing them
more distinctly. But for the presence of Indians in the valley--about
which we were quite certain--we should perhaps not have noticed the
sounds, or else have taken them for something else. Perhaps we might
have conjectured, that a gang of buffaloes had passed near the train--
leading to a brisk emptying of rifles. But the presence of the Indians
rendered this hypothesis less probable.

We still continued to observe caution. Before emerging from the defile,
we halted near its entrance--Wingrove and myself stealing forward to
reconnoitre. An elevated post--which we obtained upon a shelf of the
rock--gave us a commanding prospect of the upper valley. The sight
restored our confidence: _the caravan was in view_!

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

THE ORPHAN BUTTE.

The landscape over which we were looking was one that has long been
celebrated, in the legends of trapper and _cibolero_, and certainly no
lovelier is to be met with in the midland