"I thought that I would go off my head," DeWitt went on, dropping into a walk, "when I saw you there at Dead Man's Mesa and you escaped into that infernal crevice! Gee, Rhoda, I can't believe that this really is you!"
The sun was setting as they climbed through a wide stretch of greasewood to the first rough rock heaps of the mountains. Then DeWitt paused uncertainly.
"Why, this isn't right! I never was here before!"
Rhoda spoke cheerfully.
"Perhaps you have the right mountain but the wrong trail!"
"No! This is altogether wrong. I remember this peak now, with a sort of saw edge to the top. What a chump I am! I distinctly remember seeing this mountain from the trail this morning."
"How did it lie?" asked Rhoda, sitting down on a convenient stone.
"Gee, I can't remember whether to the right or left!"
Rhoda clasped and unclasped her hands nervously.
"I hate to stop. One can't tell what Kut-le is up to!"