d I found
that out. Lead your horse--if they jump us, give him a lick with the
quirt and hide in the brush."

Like Indians the two made their way down a rambling slope not far from
where Marian had guided Bud. To-night, however, Eddie led the way to the
right instead of the left, which seemed to Bud a direction that would
bring them down Oldman creek, that dry river bed, and finally, perhaps,
to the race track.

Eddie never did explain just how he made his way through a maze of
water-cut pillars and heaps of sandstone so bewildering that Bud
afterward swore that in spite of the fact that he was leading Sunfish,
he frequently found himself at that patient animal's tail, where they
were doubled around some freakish pillar. Frequently Eddie stopped and
peered past his horse to make sure that Bud had not lost the trail.
And finally, because he was no doubt worried over that possibility, he
knotted his rope to his saddle horn, brought back a length that reached
a full pace behind the tail of the horse, and placed the end in Bud's
hand.

"If yuh lose me you're a goner," he whispered. "So hang onto that, no
matter what comes. And don't yuh speak to me. This is hell's corral and
we're walking the top trail right now." He made sure that Bud had the
loop in his hand, then slipped back past his horse and went on, walking
more quickly.

Bud admitted afterwards that he was perfectly willing to be led like a
tame squirrel around the top of "hell's corral", whatever that was. All
that Bud saw was an intricate assembly of those terrific pillars, whose
height he did not know, since he had no time to glance up and estimate
the distance. There was no method, no channel worn through in anything
that could be called a line. Whatever primeval torrent had honeycombed
the ledge had left it so before ever its waters had formed a straight
passage through. How Eddie knew the way he could only conjecture,
remembering how he himself had ridden devious trails down on the
Tomahawk range when he was a boy. It rather hurt his pride to realize
that never had he seen anything approaching this madman's trail.

Without warning they plunged into darkness again. Darkness so black
that Bud knew they had entered another of those mysterious, subterranean
passages which had created such names as abounded in the country:
the "Sinks", "Little Lost", and Sunk River itself which disappeared
mysteriously. He was beginning to wonder with a grim kind of humor if