So it had been long centuries before, when these dead had still lived and cooked their corn on the flat stones below; for the draft through the low doorway sucked up past the fireplace and went out at the smoke-vent above. Hall set to work again, clearing away the mound with its crumbling skeleton, its prayer-sticks and arrows and clubs; but when he came to the great olla he found it sunk into the floor and as immovable as the cliff itself. He tried to pierce the seal, but it was another olla, set down over the greater one below; and finally, seizing a club, he smashed in the top, only to start back at the sound of a splash. So this was the treasure which the cliff-dwellers had concealed, and yet what treasure was greater? He leaned over the broad rim and tasted the water doubtfully—it was sweet as if it flowed from a spring! But certainly, if it had been stored for centuries and centuries, it would be flat and tainted by the pottery; he splashed it over the rim, wetting down the parched dirt floor, but the water in the basin did not lower. It was a spring walled up and cupped in the ollas, a dimpling fount for Allifair.
Hall wet down the floor and swept it out again, letting it air until the room was sweet and clean; and then in mad haste he set to work to bring in wood and make down a bed of dry grass. He stored his provisions against the wall, and threw down the lion skin by the fire; and, closing the doorway, ran down to catch his horses, for the time for action had come. Here was their dwelling place at last, all set and waiting, lacking only the smile of Allifair to give it the glow of home; and as he spurred back over the trail, dragging the led-horse behind him, he envisioned her sitting by the fireplace. Though the night was dark and the trails sluiced out by rain, when the day dawned he was hidden in the hills where he could look down and watch for Allifair.
She appeared with the dawn, still clad in white, and stood poised against the blackness of the doorway; but this time she did not wave, just stood gazing at the hills until abruptly she turned and went in. Hall was hidden in a thicket of bristling manzanita on the brow of a pineclad ridge; and his horses, staked and hobbled, were concealed in a hollow, where he could keep them under his eye. He slept, for no man could creep up to his hiding place without snapping a thousand rough twigs; and when he awoke it was raining again and the thunder was rolling along the hills. Taking shelter beneath a tree he threw his slicker over his shoulders and watched the swift rush of the clouds; the lightning that flashed and stabbed, making the earth tremble at its shock, until at last the great pageant rolled past. The sun came out warm, gleaming like silver from the thunder-heads, and down at the Rock House men mounted dancing ponies and went scampering away up the trail.
Hall counted them as they went, eleven cowboys in all, and as he spied a great horse-herd trotting in from the north he guessed the cause of their haste. This was another of those bands of Mormon horses, taken by force from the ranchers above the Rim; and unless he was mistaken the Avenging Angels from Mountain Meadow would not be far behind. They would come riding as before, disguised as raiding Apaches with horse-tails and handkerchiefs on their heads; and every man at the Rock House would be needed that night to hold the herd against them. There might even be a fight, for the Mormons were determined—and while they were drawn away he could ride to the Rock House and steal Allifair in spite of them!
The sun went down behind a bank of angry clouds, every stream-bed in the Basin was awash; and the rumble of the distant waters told of greater floods to be crossed if they endeavored to escape across Turkey Creek. But no sooner was it night than he rode boldly down the ridge, leaving his horses just behind the Indian mound. Men were dashing to and fro but something bade him be venturesome and he stood out boldly against the sky; then he crouched back and waited, for the dogs had begun to bark, and at last she came running up the path. They did not stop, even for a lover's kiss, but hurried away down the hill; and hardly had they left the Rock House behind them than they heard the hue and cry. It started at the house with a succession of six pistol shots and Hall swung from the trail to let the chase go by, for he heard them coming after him.
They had started down the main trail to Jump-off hill, but now he turned east and circled back to the north, with Allifair close behind him. She, too, had brought a slicker, to protect her from the rain, and beneath her man's hat she looked no different from the cowboys who were scouring the trails in search of them. They rode at a trot as if going to the horse-herd and a galloping Texan, riding back to the house, held up his hand as he went splashing by. But that way was too dangerous and Hall turned to the east, taking the trail that led to the Bassetts'.
A black cloud that blotted the east twinkled with flares of heat lightning, the stars seemed to swim through a mist, and as the Bassett dogs rushed out they veered sharply away, taking the trail that led down to Turkey Creek. But there they stopped short for the water, in the pale starlight, seemed to be rushing with resistless force. It rose up in huge waves, smooth and slick as a ground swell but with logs and writhing branches in its grip; and where it crossed the riffles it roared with shuddering thunder and threw up a white comb of foam.
"Can we cross it?" she asked at last, and he shrugged his shoulders.
"Do you dare to try?" he countered.
"I'll follow you anywhere!" she answered, and took off her slicker; but he sat on his horse, irresolute.