Another dawn was breaking when the five riders approached Pinecate Cañon, and the sun-spears were thrusting across the eastern sky. The lower reaches of the rocky cañon were desolate and empty, save for the figure of a saddled and bridled horse moving about. Sidewinder, with a grunt of recognition, broke the silence.
“There’s that cayuse of Mesquite’s now—started for town and stopped on the way. Prob’ly smelled water here.”
“And yonder’s the auto,” said Tom Emery with a jerk of his head. “Two of ’em!”
There was no need to question Ramsay about his car, for that of Ethel Gilman had been thrust beside it into the cover of the trees and mesquite clump, so that both cars stood protected from sun and dew, but plain to be seen. Sidewinder flung them a glance, then turned his horse into the cañon.
“Come along—ride as far as we can, anyhow. Her place is quite a ways up.”
The five rode slowly up the cañon, until they came to the spot where Ramsay had found that cigarette case. Here Sidewinder drew rein, since it was becoming increasingly harder for the horses to climb. Ahead was the bend in the cañon.
“Manuel, you stay here with Ramsay. You’d better stick here too, Tom. Come ahead when I call. You come with me, Bill.”
Sidewinder dismounted, and with the dapper Cholo Bill swinging along beside him, ascended the rocky floor of the cañon on foot. A faint thread of smoke began climbing into the sky from somewhere around the bend; sunrise in all its glory was spreading a riot of color across the heavens.
Some distance above them was a great boulder, huge as a house, in the center of the rapidly narrowing cañon. It was a rich and ruddy rose-pink in the first sunlight, and was split squarely in two, with a number of small piñon trees growing from the split. Water came from it, came from the cañon above it also, and ran down into several pools and short falls; it was the evanescent water of the desert springtime, giving a short-lived existence to lilies and masses of flowers on either hand. Above this boulder, and to its left, could be seen the brown outline of a small tent, with the figure of Ethel Gilman tending a fire close by. Sidewinder raised his voice in a hail, and waved his hand.
“Leave the talk to me, now,” he growled. “It’s all right—she’s alone here. Don’t want to frighten her. Scare a fool woman, and she’s like a locoed horse.”