Evidently the man on the
rim had smooth ground to ride over, for he easily kept abreast of Slone. But
he could not get the range. Fortunately for Slone, broken ramparts above
checked the tricks of that pursuer, and Slone saw no more of him.
It afforded him great relief to find that Creech's trail turned into a canyon
on the left; and here, with the sun already low, Slone began to watch the
clumps of cedars and the jumbles of rock. But he was not ambushed. Darkness
set in, and, being tired out, he was about to halt for the night when he
caught the flicker of a campfire. The stallion saw it, too, but did not snort.
Slone dismounted and, leading him, went cautiously forward on foot, rifle in
hand.
The canyon widened at a point where two breaks occurred, and the
less-restricted space was thick with cedar and pinyon. Slone could tell by the
presence of these trees and also by a keener atmosphere that he was slowly
getting to a higher attitude. This camp-fire must belong to Cordts or the one
man who had gone on ahead.
Pages:
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500