AT THE GRAND CANYON
"Do you mean it?" asked Frank.
"Come out, and see for yourself," Bob returned. "I've looked all around,
and not a sign of the old fellow can I find."
"And both horses are there?" Frank continued, making a break for the
exit.
"As fine as you please. Our friend didn't want a second try from those
clever heels of Buckskin. He gave them a wide berth when he cleared out,
I warrant. Oh! you can look everywhere, and you won't see a whiff of
Havasupai. He's skipped by the light of the moon, all right."
Bob backed off, as his chum walked this way and that. He grinned as
though he really enjoyed the whole thing. In his mind he had figured
that it would turn out something this way, so he was not very much
surprised.
"What d'ye think, Frank," he exclaimed, presently; "don't you remember
promising to share our venison at breakfast with the Moqui?"
"Why yes, to be sure I do; but what of that, Bob?"
"Only that he didn't forget," laughed the other.
Frank immediately glanced toward the carcase of the little antelope.
"Ginger! he did go and cut himself a piece from it, sure enough," he
admitted.
"While he thought our company not as nice as our room, still, he didn't
object to sharing our meat. And, Frank, he wasn't at all stingy about
the amount he took, either," Bob complained.
"Oh! well, I reckon there's still enough for us, and to spare. Besides,
we've got heaps of other things along in our packs, for an emergency,
you know. Suppose we make a pot of coffee, and start things."
"That's all right, Frank; I'll attend to it," declared Bob; "but why
under the sun do you suppose now, that sly old Moqui dodged out like
that?"
"Well, for one thing, he may have suspected us," replied Frank.
"What! after all we did for him, took him in, and forgave his sins, even
to offering to mend any broken ribs, if he'd had any, through that horse
kick? I can't just understand that," Bob ventured, while he measured out
enough ground coffee to make a pot of the tempting hot beverage.
"He took the alarm, it seems," Frank went on, indifferently. "Knew we
wanted to find the man who had given him the talking paper; and was
afraid we might try to make him tell; or, that failing, stalk him when
he went to deliver my note. And on the whole I can't much blame the old
Indian. Suspicion is a part of their nature. He believed he was on the
safe side in slipping away as he did. Forget it, Bob. We've learned a
heap by his just dropping in on us, I think."
"Sure we have," replied the other, being busily employed over the fire
just then. "And I was thinking what he could have meant when he pointed
off in the direction I calculate the Grand Canyon lies, and said in
answer to one of your questions: 'Seek there! When the sun is red it
shines in Echo Cave!'"
"I've guessed that riddle, and it was easy," Frank remarked.
"Then let me hear about it, because I'm pretty dull when it comes to
understanding all this lovely sign language of the Indians," Bob
remarked.
"Listen, then. The sun is said to be red when its setting; that's plain
enough; isn't it, Bob?"
"All O.K. so far, Frank. I won't forget that in a hurry, either."
"Then, when he said it looked into the cave at sunset, it was another
way of telling us the cave faced the west!" Frank continued.
"Well, what a silly chap I was not to guess that," chuckled the other.
"And from what I know about the bigness of that canyon, Bob, I think
that this unknown Echo Cave must be pretty high up on the face of a big
cliff to the east of the river."
"Why high up? I don't get on to any reason for your saying that?"
inquired Bob.
"You'll see it just as soon as I mention why," remarked his companion.
"When the sun is going down in the west, far beyond the horizon, don't
you see that it can only shine along the very upper part of the cliffs?
The lower part is already lost in the shadows that drop late in the
afternoon in all canyons."
"Of course, and it's as plain to me now as the nose on my face," agreed
Bob. "Queer, how easy we see these things after they've been explained."
It did not take long to prepare breakfast, and still less time to eat it
once the coffee and venison were ready. Just as Frank had said, there
was plenty of the meat for the meal.
"That was a mighty juicy little antelope, all right," remarked Bob, as
he finished his last bite, and prepared to get up from the ground where
he had been enjoying his ease during the meal.
"And for one I don't care how soon you repeat the dose," remarked Frank;
"only it will be a long day before you get one of the timid little
beasts as easy as that accommodating chap fell to your gun. Why, he was
just a gift, that's all you could call it, Bob."
"That's what I've been thinking myself, though of course I don't know as
much about them as you do, by a long shot," Bob admitted. "I suppose
it's us to hit the saddle again now?"
"We're going to try and make Flagstaff by night," Frank announced, as he
picked up his saddle and bridle, and walked toward the spot where
Buckskin was staked out.
The horses had been able to drink all they wanted during the night, for
the ropes by means of which they were tethered allowed of a range that
took them to the little spring hole from which the water gushed, to run
away, and, in the end, possibly unite with the wonderful Colorado.
In ten minutes more the boys were off at a round gallop. There was no
intention of pushing their mounts so soon in the day. Like most persons
who have spent much time on horseback both lads knew the poor policy of
urging an animal to its best speed in the early part of a journey,
especially one that is to be prolonged for ten or twelve hours.
At noon they were far enough advanced for Frank to declare he had no
doubt about being able to make Flagstaff before sunset.
"When we get there, and spend a night at the hotel, we must remember
and ask if our friend Mr. Stanwix and his partner arrived in good time,
and went on," Bob suggested.
Just as Frank had expected, they made the town on the railroad before
the sun had dropped out of sight; and the horses were in fair condition
at that.
Flagstaff only boasts of a normal population of between one and two
thousand; but there are times, with the influx of tourists bound for the
Grand Canyon, when it is a lively little place.
The two boys only desired shelter and rest for themselves and their
horses during the night. It was their intention to push on early the
following day, keeping along the old wagon trail that at one time was
the sole means of reaching the then little known Wonderland along the
deeply sunk Colorado.
After a fairly pleasant night, they had an early breakfast. The horses
proved to be in fine fettle, and eager for the long gallop. So the two
saddle boys once more started forth.
The day promised to be still warmer than the preceding one; and the
first part of the journey presented some rather difficult problems. They
managed to put the San Francisco Mountains behind them, however, and
from that on the dash was for the most part over a fairly level plateau.
Now and then they were threading the trail through great pine forests,
and again it was a mesa that opened up before them.
Bob was especially delighted.
"Think we'll make it, Frank?" he asked, about the middle of the
afternoon, as they cantered along, side by side, the horses by this time
having had pretty much all their "ginger" as Bob called it taken out of
them, though still able to respond to a sudden emergency, had one
arisen.
"I reckon so," replied the other. "According to my map we're within
striking distance right now. Given two more hours, and we'll possibly
sight the border of the big hole. That was Red Horse Tank we just
passed, you know," and he pointed out their position on the little chart
to Bob.
It was half an hour to sundown when the well known Grand View Hotel
stood out in plain sight before them; and before the shades of night
commenced to fall, the tired boys had thrown themselves from their
saddles, seen to the comfort of the faithful steeds, and mounted to the
porch of the hotel for a flitting view of the amazing spectacle that
spread itself before them, ere darkness hid its wonderful and majestic
beauty.