valley of sage, and the mouths of
canyons, one of which surely was another gateway into the pass.

He got off his horse, and, giving the bridle to Ring to hold, he
commenced a search for the cleft where the stream ran. He was not
successful and concluded the water dropped into an underground passage.
Then he returned to where he had left Wrangle, and led him down off the
stone to the sage. It was a short ride to the opening canyons. There was
no reason for a choice of which one to enter. The one he rode into was a
clear, sharp shaft in yellow stone a thousand feet deep, with wonderful
wind-worn caves low down and high above buttressed and turreted
ramparts. Farther on Venters came into a region where deep indentations
marked the line of canyon walls. These were huge, cove-like blind
pockets extending back to a sharp corner with a dense growth of
underbrush and trees.

Venters penetrated into one of these offshoots, and, as he had hoped, he
found abundant grass. He had to bend the oak saplings to get his horse
through. Deciding to make this a hiding-place if he could find water, he
worked back to the limit of the shelving walls. In a little cluster of
silver spruces he found a spring. This inclosed nook seemed an ideal
place to leave his horse and to camp at night, and from which to make
stealthy trips on foot. The thick grass hid his trail; the dense growth
of oaks in the opening would serve as a barrier to keep Wrangle in, if,
indeed, the luxuriant browse would not suffice for that. So Venters,
leaving Whitie with the horse, called Ring to his side, and, rifle in
hand, worked his way out to the open. A careful photographing in mind
of the formation of the bold outlines of rimrock assured him he would be
able to return to his retreat even in the dark.

Bunches of scattered sage covered the center of the canyon, and among
these Venters threaded his way with the step of an Indian. At intervals
he put his hand on the dog and stopped to listen. There was a drowsy
hum of insects, but no other sound disturbed the warm midday stillness.
Venters saw ahead a turn, more abrupt than any yet. Warily he rounded
this corner, once again to halt bewildered.

The canyon opened fan-shaped into a great oval of green and gray
growths. It was the hub of an oblong wheel, and from it, at regular
distances, like spokes, ran the outgoing canyons. Here a dull red color
predominated over the fading yellow. The corners of wall bluntly rose,