They found that Hank had half a dozen cowboys with him, some of the most daring connected with Circle Ranch. Overtaken by the storm while at the base of the mountain, they had waited for daylight, and then started afoot to make the ascent. The presence of the new river in the bed of the long empty barranca astonished these cowmen exceedingly. And when they heard all that the boys had to tell they were almost of the opinion that they must have been dreaming.
But there was the evidence before their very eyes, and nobody could deny that the old-time river, that had been bottled up underground for so long, had finally found a way to break forth once more, aided by the geyser that for a century had beaten that tremendous tattoo every little while against the inner walls of the rocky mountain.
"Then there won't be no more racket, will there?" old Hank asked, as he lay there, looking down at the rushing current of the new stream that would no doubt readily follow its long abandoned course, until it reached the distant Colorado, somewhere along the Grand Canyon.
"The chances are against it," replied Frank.
"But let's try and find our horses," Bob suggested, after he had finished eating what food the newcomers had taken the pains to prepare for the lost ones.
"Yes, I'm anxious myself to find out how Buckskin's weathered the gale," Frank put in.
The two horses were found in good shape, but glad to once more see their masters, if the whinnies that greeted the coming of Frank and Bob might be looked upon as evidence of this.
And then another difficult task awaited them. To get the animals down to the level plain, now that the canyon was out of commission, taxed the ingenuity of even so expert a plainsman as Hank Coombs; but it was finally accomplished.
Then the horses of the cowboys were found, and the entire party started for the distant ranch, expecting to complete their jaunt before sundown.
Old Hank was deeply interested in what the boys had to tell about the band of rustlers passing, with all the led horses.