It was a tempting theme for the imagination, but they were too practical to linger. Having agreed that the canyon could be readily jumped, they did not hesitate. Running a few steps, Jack Dudley cleared the passage and landed on the other side, with several feet to spare. He did not take the trouble to toss his rifle in advance, but kept it in his hand.
"I had a queer feeling," he said, as Fred joined him, "when I was right over the middle of the canyon, and knew, if I had made any miscalculation, I should never stop until pretty well down toward the centre of the earth."
"It doesn't take long to do a deal of thinking at such time, but what bothered me was whether I was going to make as good a jump as you. I believe I beat you by two or three inches."
"You wouldn't have done it if I had tried. But, Fred, since we are on this side of that split in the mountain, we have got to jump it again to get back to camp."
"And we must manage to do it before dark, for it isn't safe to take chances where there is so much variance in the width."
"Fact of it is," remarked Jack, expressing that which had been clear to both from the first, "there was no need of our jumping it at all. But we are here, and must make the best of it. It's time we found some game."
And Jack looked sharply around, as if he expected to see a fat deer or big horn step forward and sacrifice himself for their good.
But they were more fortunate than they were warranted in expecting. While surveying the rocks and heights which seemed to wall them in, Fred exclaimed:
"There's our game!"
He pointed to a cliff fully two hundred yards distant, and of half that height. On this projecting ledge stood a noble buck, with antlers and head raised, while he seemed to be gazing over the wild expanse of country below him. They knew he was a fine animal, though the distance made him appear diminutive.