h had probably been brought down by
the torrents that swept through the ravine in spring or when a
cloudburst descended upon the upper portion.

Standing at the entrance, it was observed that the gorge trended
sharply to the left, so that the view was shut off at a distance of
fifty yards. It was noticeable, too, that the path taken by the
fugitives sloped upward at so abrupt an angle that it must have sorely
tried the horses.

"I thought so," was the comment of Vose Adams, when he returned from a
brief exploration of the ravine; "they got off and led their
animals."

"Have you any idea of the distance they went?" asked Captain Dawson,
who was in a more gracious mood, now that he appreciated the value of
the services of their guide.

"No; I've rid in front of that opening a good many times, but this is
the first time I ever went into it."

"Well, what is to be done?" asked Parson Brush.

"Why, foller 'em of course," Wade Ruggles took upon himself to reply.

"That won't do," replied Adams, "for it is likely to upset everything;
I'll leave Hercules with you and sneak up the gorge far enough to find
how the land lays. I'll come back as soon as I can, but don't get
impatient if I'm gone several hours."

Brush and Ruggles showed their displeasure, for, while admitting the
skill of the guide, they could not see adequate cause for the
impending delay. They had made so many slips that it seemed like
inviting another. It was clear that they were close upon the
fugitives, and the two believed the true policy was to press the
pursuit without relaxing their vigor. But Captain Dawson, the one who
naturally would have been dissatisfied, was silent, thereby making it
apparent that Adams was carrying out a plan previously agreed upon by
the two.

Vose paid no heed to Ruggles and the parson, but started up the
ravine, quickly disappearing from view. Believing a long wait
inevitable, the three prepared to pass the dismal interval as best
they could. Here and there scant patches of grass showed in the canyon,
and the animals were allowed to crop what they could of the natural
food. The men lounged upon the boulders at hand, smoked their pipes
and occasionally exchanged a few words, but none was in the mood for
talking and they formed a grim, stolid group.

Hardly ten minutes had passed, when Ruggles, with some evidence of
excitement, exclaimed in a guarded undertone:

"Helloa! Something's up!"

He referred to the horses,