At once Grey bent, seized the blanket, threw the strap over his shoulder, and strode rapidly along by Dan's side. His weariness was now gone, and the blood surged madly through his veins. Added to his desire to recover the child was the longing to punish the ones who had sent Madeline through the rapids. Oh, for a dozen or more of his comrades at Big Glen, mounted on their hardy steeds, and he would show the Indians a thing or two! But then, that was not the way of the Force. It never trusted to numbers. As in far-off Hebrew days it believed that "One thousand shall flee at the rebuke of one," and that "One hundred shall put ten thousand to flight."
Having reached the head of the rapids they carefully examined the remains of the recent camp fire. From the few ashes lying on the ground they could tell how pitifully small it had been—typical of Indian ways. Grey looked down thoughtfully upon that thin black layer and the several charred sticks scattered around. He pictured Madeline sitting at that very spot, enfolding, perhaps, in her arms the tired, homeless child. What were her thoughts as she sat there? Did she think of him? He glanced toward the river flowing sullenly by. If it would only speak what a tale it could unfold. Dan saw the look and divined the meaning.
"Yes, laddie," he remarked, "it was hard—it was devilish. But never mind, yon trail will reveal somethin' afore night shets down or else I'm much mistaken."
For several miles above the rapids stretched as wild and rugged a portion of land as ever met the eye of man. A long range of hills sloped toward the river in a terrace-like formation, terminating in an abrupt, jagged wall of rock from ten to thirty feet in height. The narrow strip of ground between this and the river was strewn with thousands of small and large boulders, which had been hurled from the flinty summit of the range, so the Indians believed, by the Great Spirit in a terrible battle with the monsters of the mountains.
Among these boulders twisted the slender trail, winding at times close to the overshadowing wall of rock. At one of these places Grey paused, and looked about with wonder, mingled with awe. Above him towered two gigantic flinty columns of rock. The chisels of ages had cut strange figures upon their hard surfaces, and rounded into rugged symmetry their stately forms. Silent hoodoo sentinels were they frowning down upon the trail at their feet. To the Indians they were objects of fear and reverence, and their steps always quickened as with furtive eyes they glided speedily by.
"Talk about the monuments of civilisation," said Grey, placing his hand upon the nearer column. "But where will you find such shafts as these cut by the hand of man? Why, the wonderful Cleopatra's needle is a pigmy to these."
"Ay, ay, laddie, yer right thar. When I was in New York they p'inted out to me a number of stones stuck up in the city, an' they showed me the picters in their Art Galleries. But sez I to 'em, 'Come with me to the grand North land, an' I'll show ye picters jist as the Lord made 'em, with no smell of paint upon 'em either. An' as fer stones, I'll show ye monements which the Lord made, with their heads playin' with the clouds, an' their roots grippin' down inter the bowels of the arth.' That's wot I said to 'em, an' they smiled to their selves, so they did, an' nudged one another. They thought I was a bit daft. But, my! if they could see sich wonders as these, they'd then know it wasn't me who was daft."
During this speech Grey was peering around the colossal shaft, exploring the space beyond. Something was interesting him there, and he took a few paces forward.
"Come, Dan," he cried, "what a fine cave is hidden behind these columns."
They both now stood at the opening, looking into the yawning mouth of the cavern.