A quarter or a third of a mile through the winding gully, and Brinton drew rein, and waited until his parents rode up beside him.
"I wonder what has become of them?" was his inquiring remark.
"What does it matter," asked his mother in turn, "so long as we cannot see them? We must be a good way from them now."
"I wish I could think so, but I can't feel easy while riding in this blind fashion. There may be greater danger in front than we have left behind."
"What do you propose to do?" asked the father.
"Take a look round and learn, if I can, how things are going."
Without explaining further, the youth swung himself down once more from the saddle, and hurried to the edge of the arroya on his left. There was a spot so sloping that after a little work, with the dirt crumbling under his feet, he reached the level above, and was able to peer over a great deal of the surrounding prairie without exposing himself.
The result ought to have been gratifying, but it was hardly that. North, south, east, and west the youth bent his keen vision, but not a sign of the dreaded hostiles was to be seen. They were as invisible as though they had never been.
Had the distance travelled by the fugitives since their fright been twice or thrice as great, this must have been the best of omens, but the space was not far, and it was almost self-evident that the band was still in the neighbourhood.
But where?