The old cow puncher understood that the pace had been too warm for the tenderfoot; and he considerately halted. Perhaps none of the climbers were averse to a breathing spell before the final round. It would put them in better condition for the wind-up, whatever that might prove to be.
"Frank," whispered Bob, as he pulled at the trouser leg of his chum so as to induce him to bend down closer.
"What's the row?" asked the other, in somewhat the same guarded tone, as he managed to double over, and bring his face close to that of his friend.
"Charley Moi has just told me something," Bob went on. "You know we found out before now that he's got the greatest pair of ears ever for hearing things? Well, he says there's something or some one following us up this old crack!"
"Whew! that's nice, now. A regular procession, it seems," remarked Frank.
"Who d'ye think it can be; and would a bear or a mountain lion pick up our tracks this way?" continued Bob, who was trying to work his rifle around, so as to cover the rear.
"Wait! Let's all listen, after I send the word along to Hank and Chesty," remarked Frank.
When this had been done even the old cowman thought well enough of the idea to wait until they could find out the nature of the sounds that had reached the keen hearing of the wide-awake Chinaman.
It was only half light in the break of the rock, and the passage they had been following thus far was so very crooked that no one could see more than twenty feet down the trail.
Still every eye was fastened on that point where the advancing man or animal would first appear. Frank, too, had his rifle bearing on the spot; and taken as a whole the appearance of the little company, flattened out against the break in the mighty rock wall, was rather threatening.