the risk, he was
compelled to stay where he was, or comparatively near, for the night.
The horses must rest and drink. He must find water. He was now seventy
miles from Cottonwoods, and, he believed, close to the canyon where the
cattle trail must surely turn off and go down into the Pass. After a
while he rose to survey the valley.

He was very near to the ragged edge of a deep canyon into which the
trail turned. The ground lay in uneven ridges divided by washes, and
these sloped into the canyon. Following the canyon line, he saw where
its rim was broken by other intersecting canyons, and farther down red
walls and yellow cliffs leading toward a deep blue cleft that he made
sure was Deception Pass. Walking out a few rods to a promontory, he
found where the trail went down. The descent was gradual, along a
stone-walled trail, and Venters felt sure that this was the place where
Oldring drove cattle into the Pass. There was, however, no indication at
all that he ever had driven cattle out at this point. Oldring had many
holes to his burrow.

In searching round in the little hollows Venters, much to his relief,
found water. He composed himself to rest and eat some bread and meat,
while he waited for a sufficient time to elapse so that he could safely
give the horses a drink. He judged the hour to be somewhere around noon.
Wrangle lay down to rest and Night followed suit. So long as they
were down Venters intended to make no move. The longer they rested
the better, and the safer it would be to give them water. By and by he
forced himself to go over to where Black Star lay, expecting to find
him dead. Instead he found the racer partially if not wholly recovered.
There was recognition, even fire, in his big black eyes. Venters was
overjoyed. He sat by the black for a long time. Black Star presently
labored to his feet with a heave and a groan, shook himself, and snorted
for water. Venters repaired to the little pool he had found, filled
his sombrero, and gave the racer a drink. Black Star gulped it at one
draught, as if it were but a drop, and pushed his nose into the hat
and snorted for more. Venters now led Night down to drink, and after a
further time Black Star also. Then the blacks began to graze.

The sorrel had wandered off down the sage between the trail and the
canyon. Once or twice he disappeared in little swales. Finally Venters
concluded Wrangle had grazed far enough, and, taking his lasso, he went
to fetch hi