ul glance below, and back toward the canyon, he
began to chase the rabbit.

The fact that rabbits generally ran uphill was not new to him. But
it presently seemed singular why this rabbit, that might have escaped
downward, chose to ascend the slope. Venters knew then that it had a
burrow higher up. More than once he jerked over to seize it, only in
vain, for the rabbit by renewed effort eluded his grasp. Thus the chase
continued on up the bare slope. The farther Venters climbed the more
determined he grew to catch his quarry. At last, panting and sweating,
he captured the rabbit at the foot of a steeper grade. Laying his rifle
on the bulge of rising stone, he killed the animal and slung it from his
belt.

Before starting down he waited to catch his breath. He had climbed
far up that wonderful smooth slope, and had almost reached the base
of yellow cliff that rose skyward, a huge scarred and cracked bulk. It
frowned down upon him as if to forbid further ascent. Venters bent over
for his rifle, and, as he picked it up from where it leaned against the
steeper grade, he saw several little nicks cut in the solid stone.

They were only a few inches deep and about a foot apart. Venters began
to count them--one--two--three--four--on up to sixteen. That number
carried his glance to the top of his first bulging bench of cliff-base.
Above, after a more level offset, was still steeper slope, and the line
of nicks kept on, to wind round a projecting corner of wall.

A casual glance would have passed by these little dents; if Venters had
not known what they signified he would never have bestowed upon them the
second glance. But he knew they had been cut there by hand, and,
though age-worn, he recognized them as steps cut in the rock by the
cliff-dwellers. With a pulse beginning to beat and hammer away his
calmness, he eyed that indistinct line of steps, up to where the
buttress of wall hid further sight of them. He knew that behind
the corner of stone would be a cave or a crack which could never be
suspected from below. Chance, that had sported with him of late, now
directed him to a probable hiding-place. Again he laid aside his rifle,
and, removing boots and belt, he began to walk up the steps. Like a
mountain goat, he was agile, sure-footed, and he mounted the first bench
without bending to use his hands. The next ascent took grip of fingers
as well as toes, but he climbed steadily, swiftly, to reach the
projecting corner, and