"Hit it up, Crow! Hit it up!" Dave called to his black horse, who was going along a not very safe trail amid the rocks and stones.
Dave was about half way through the place when the silence, undisturbed save by the rattle of Crow's hoofs, was suddenly broken by a cry.
"Help! Help!" Dave heard uttered in somewhat weak accents. "Help!"
The young cowboy was startled for a moment. He reined in his horse sharply, and looked about. He could see nothing, and the silence seemed more pronounced after the echo of the appeal for aid had died away.
"Hello!" Dave called. "Who are you, and what do you want? Where are you?" he asked, for he could see no one.
"Over here. To your right. I can see you, but you can't see me. I'm down behind a rock. I'm caught, and hanging over a gully. Wait, I'll toss up my handkerchief. Watch for it!"
Dave looked as nearly as he could tell in the direction of the voice. An instant later something white flashed up in the air, and fell down softly. Crow started violently.
CHAPTER VII
THE RESCUE
"Whoa there, old boy! Steady!" Dave spoke to his horse, and the animal, that had been frightened by the sudden throwing into the air of the handkerchief, stood still.