“Lots of things do, until you really pass through the experience, and then you know they are the real article. I feel that my dad believes the same way I do; and Bart Heminway, too. But we’ll know after a while, Bob, if we just hold our horses. There, get busy with some of that grub you’re carrying. We don’t have to depend on getting game this time, in order to make sure of a supper.”
The moon was up when they prepared to quit the spot. One rider was left behind to guard the saddle band.
Down the canyon then, they went like a bunch of shadows, flitting silently along. All talking above whispers was positively forbidden. Reaching the spot where that mysterious opening occurred in the wall of the canyon, Scotty slipped inside without a moment’s delay, the others following after, one at a time.
Bob kept close behind his chum. He had several good reasons for that. In the first place Frank was sure-footed, and would serve as a
guide to his less experienced comrade. Then again, if there arose any occasion for communications, Bob wanted to be where he could whisper in his chum’s ear.
Just as Frank had said he believed would prove to be the case, that cleft in the rocks did turn out to be a narrow passage. It wound in and out for some distance. Once Bob saw the man in the lead strike a match, and look at the rocks at his feet. Scotty appeared quite satisfied with the result of his examination; and Bob saw him showing something that he had picked up, to the stockman.
Then the match went out; and the march was resumed.
“Look up, Bob!” whispered Frank, presently.
“Why, I can see the stars!” answered the other, also keeping his voice down.
“Sure you can; which shows that we’ve come out from the passage and once more stand in the open. We’ve passed through one of the walls of the mountains. This is some narrow valley back of the outer part. And it’s sure going to lead us to the hidden corral where Mendoza keeps all his stolen stock!”