“’M, yes, I think so,” said Griggs quietly.
“Where?” cried Chris. “You don’t mean up at the head of the valley, where I came down?”
“Nay! That wouldn’t do, even if there was a place. Be too far off. You want a spot where one could slip up quickly and shut the way after you so as to stop the enemy from following.”
“Yes,” said Chris, shaking his head; “and that we shall never find.”
“No,” cried Ned, almost triumphantly. “Your plan’s no better than mine, old chap.”
“I don’t know so much about that, squire,” said Griggs, screwing up his face. “Seems to me that we can find such a way out if we try.”
“Where?” cried Ned.
“Over yonder, squire,” was the reply, as the American nodded his head in the direction of the terraces and openings opposite to where they sat talking.
“Ah!” cried Chris excitedly. “Yes, there must, now one thinks of it, be a way down there. Some of the Indians must have got down a part of the way to send their arrows at me when I was seeing to my poor mustang.”
“To be sure! Right!” cried Griggs. “I never thought of that before. Then we’ve been sleeping here with the door open, only the enemy were afraid to come.”