“If you’re really determined to go, I’m going too,” Connie said quietly.
“Then you’ll have to catch up with us,” Helena replied, digging her heels into her steed’s ribs.
Connie hurriedly turned the chuck wagon over to Cookie, and saddling Silvertail, set off in pursuit of the boy and girl. She felt irritated beyond measure. It did not seem to matter to them at all how much trouble they caused. If left to themselves they would be sure to take a wrong turn in the trail.
Connie soon overtook the reckless pair. She had very little to say as the horses clattered over the stony road.
It was truly a beautiful night and soon Connie, falling under the spell of the big moon, could bear no resentment. Often when she was a child she and her father had visited the cliffs upon just such an evening. The recollection of the remarkable sight had lingered long in her memory.
Connie selected the South trail because it would give the best view of the cliff dwellings as they descended into the valley and climbed again to the other side. Emerging from a screen of pines, she reined in her horse and waited for Helena and Cecil who had fallen behind.
With a sweep of her arm she pointed across the canyon. In the moonlight the white rocks shone weirdly, and the dark squares, each one marking the prehistoric dwelling place of an ancient tribe, looked like somber eyes peering across the valley.
“Why, it’s beautiful,” Helena murmured.
Even Cecil was deeply impressed by the sight. For a long moment no one spoke.
Then Connie sat up very straight as she saw something move along the face of the cliff opposite them. For just an instant she thought that it might be a wild animal but the next moment she clearly distinguished the form of a man. He crept along the cliff trail, making his way toward an opening in the rocks.