"It's the shortest way to where we left our horses, I reckon," remarked Bob.
"And the only way we happen to know of," Frank went on; "but if that flood just happened to break loose while we were between those high walls we'd have an experience that would be fierce, let me tell you!"
"But then, it may not come for hours yet?" remonstrated the Kentucky boy, who was anxious to be once again in the saddle, and leaving the haunted mountain well in the rear.
"Oh! for that matter, it may not come at all," Frank went on. "Although Smith did say he really believed that this was going to finish the old geyser, which he believed empties into one of those queer underground rivers we know are to be found all through the Southwest. And Smith ought to know something about it, for he's been watching this business a whole year now, from close quarters."
"I'm willing to take the chances, if you are," declared Bob.
Frank was not at all surprised when he heard his chum say this. He knew that the Kentucky boy was apt to be rash; and that meant more caution on his part, in order to counteract this spirit, that might border on recklessness.
A quick decision had to be made, for delay could do them no good. He cast one last look up at the dark heavens, as though questioning how long they might remain mute.
"All right, we'll risk it, Bob," he declared, suddenly; for even if the worst came Frank believed he knew how to avoid a calamity.
"Good for you, Frank!" exclaimed the other; but Bob understood the nature of the risk they were taking, and he was not quite so buoyant as usual.
The canyon was just below them now, and fortunately there seemed a narrow bit of slope down which they might make their way. This they did with considerable difficulty. Indeed, Bob was secretly sorry, after they had started, that he had urged his companion to take this step; but there could be no going back now.