Maitland walked to the edge of the trail and looked down into the valley. It had been swept clean of the camp. Rocks had been rolled over upon the meadow land, trunks of trees torn up by the roots had lodged against them, it was a scene of desolate and miserable confusion and disaster.
"Oh, Robert, don't you think she may be safe?" asked Mrs. Maitland.
"There's jest a chance, I think, that she may have suspicioned the storm an' got out of the cañon," suggested the old frontiersman.
"A slim chance," answered Maitland gloomily. "I wouldn't have had this happen for anything on earth."
"Nor me; I'd a heap ruther it had got me than her," said Kirkby simply.
"I didn't see it coming," continued Maitland nodding as if Kirkby's statement were to be accepted as a matter of course, as indeed it was. "We were on the other slope of the mountain, until it was almost over head."
"Nuther did I. To tell the truth I was lyin' down nappin' w'en Pete, yere, who'd been down the cañon rounding up some of the critters, came bustin' in on us."
"I ain't saved but four hosses," said Pete mournfully, "and there's only one burro on the hogback."
"We came back as fast as we could," said Maitland. "I pushed on ahead. George, Bradshaw and Phillips are bringing Bob and the girls. We must search the cañon."
"It can't be done to-night, old man," said Kirkby.