"I'm thinkin' there's some thunderin' big fools in this here party," he announced in his abrupt way, "that can get matters into such a hole that a youngster has to start off on a crazy trip like that, but I want to state that the boy is pay dirt all through. He's not only crossed the Canyon alone, but he's found a new trail!"
"Where?" asked Masseth eagerly, thinking it wiser to ignore the stranger's criticism rather than debate the point.
"Down Bright Angel Canyon, Mr. Masseth," answered the boy. "It wasn't so awfully bad, except in a few places."
"But how did you get through?"
"I went down by the spring," answered Roger, "keeping to the right, until I got wedged in between two cliffs, pink in color with a broad band of slate blue about two-thirds of the way up."
"That's usually a bad wall!" interjected Masseth. "How did you cross it?"
Roger described the device he had used, and received the encomiums of all his comrades for the work, and then, as briefly as he could, gave an outline of the various points of interest on the way.
He was especially gratified, when, after telling how he had got out of the pocket of rock, Masseth turned to his assistant.
"We'll chart that as Doughty Point," he said, "for the boy's sake."
The boy flushed with delight at having his name given to a part of the country, just like a real explorer, and cast a grateful look at his chief.