Advancing with the care and stealth of a trained Indian scout, Hazletine remained but a short time near the break in the canyon, for suspecting, as did Jack Dudley, that it was in that neighborhood the key to the situation was to be found, he was exposing himself to discovery. He climbed the same ascent, leaped the canyon, and ensconced himself on the further side. His intention was to peer over the edge into the depths below, instead of taking the course followed later by his young friend.
He was acting on this idea, when he came within a hair of spoiling everything by committing the very blunder against which he had sought with so much pains to guard. At his height above the torrent, as will be remembered, no one was disturbed by the roar of the waters far below. Because of his susceptibility to sounds, he heard an exclamation uttered by some one near him. The point whence it came was a clump of rocks hardly fifty feet distant, and he fancied he recognized the voice as Bill Tozer's. To his relief he could see no one, and it was safe, therefore, to assume that no one as yet saw him.
The ground was favorable, and by using the utmost care he secured a position from which he discovered Tozer and Motoza in conversation. The white man was sitting on a boulder, while the Sioux was standing in front of him, gesticulating as if angry over something that had been proposed or said. Tozer was smoking a pipe, and seemed cool and collected, though the exclamation which had betrayed him indicated that it had not been thus from the beginning.
It was an important discovery for Hazletine to make, but it was attended by two exasperating facts: the interview was nearly over, and the words that remained to be spoken were uttered in such moderate tones that he could not hear a syllable. If the couple had been obliging enough to raise their voices, it is probable that the knowledge sought by the eavesdropper would have soon been at his command.
But nothing of that nature took place. Within five minutes after the arrival of the cowman, prepared to act his part as spy, Motoza turned about and walked away in the direction of the canyon, while Tozer took a course which, if continued, would lead him to the plateau.
"I don't think he'll go there, fur he's no reason to look fur me in that place afore to-morrer morning."
But the white man was not the important factor in the problem. Hank waited for some minutes after he had passed from sight, and then set out to regain sight of Motoza, which task proved more difficult than he expected. The fellow had vanished, and it was impossible to tell whither he had gone. The rocky surface left no trail which even an Apache could follow, and it only remained for the cowman to fall back upon what may be called general principles.
The experience of the cowman was another illustration of how much depends in this world on what is called chance.
Jack Dudley, without any preliminary training in woodcraft, discovered Motoza as he emerged from the canyon, while the veteran of the West, skilled in all the ways of his venturesome life, spent hours in looking for the Sioux without obtaining the first glimpse of him. That he missed him by a margin that could not have been narrower was a fact; but "a miss is as good as a mile," and the autumn afternoon drew to a close without the first glimmer of success on his part. He had gone so far, even, as to visit a distant camp-fire, whose smoke still faintly showed against the clear sky, but failed to see a living person.
He was on the point of giving over his quest, when the unexpected happened. Within a few hundred yards of the break in the canyon he caught sight of Motoza and Tozer holding another consultation. They had evidently just met, and the configuration of the ground enabled Hazletine to steal near enough to catch some of the words spoken by the couple.