"Yes," Frank went on, thoughtfully, "and the chances are ten to one that it changes into a regular canyon, where the water rushes down whenever they have one of those gushers, or cloud bursts, that come along once in a while around here. Now, I wonder if those riders hit it up this way?"
He jumped to his feet as he said this. Passing back and forth, Frank seemed to be examining the ground, marking the stepping stones of the mountain.
"Signs aplenty around here," he remarked. "Wish old Hank was along to read 'em. I reckon I can tell what they stand for, though."
"Then they went on up that canyon, you believe?" asked Bob.
"Reckon there isn't any doubt about that part of it," chuckled Frank; "though just where that same canyon leads I can't say. P'raps it may be a short-cut across the big range here, leading to the prairie on the other side. P'raps it doesn't go anywhere, but just leads to a blind hole that I've heard prospectors call a cul de sac. Anyhow, we ought to find out, Bob."
"They knew all right," remarked the other, positively. "Wouldn't get any riders going up there in the dark, unless they were mighty familiar with every foot of the way. That's my idea, Frank."
"And I reckon it's the true one," asserted the other. "They know this place as well as I do all around old Circle Ranch."
"There's the sun coming up; and perhaps we'd better be getting a move on about now?" suggested Bob.
"Wait!"
Something in the tone which his saddle chum used caused Bob to turn his head, and look out toward the plain.