So strong did this feeling become that he lay there, not daring to look about him, until a sudden sound smote on his ears,—the sharp rattle of hoofs, coming apparently from the canyon above which his log was perched in such a precarious condition.
The sound in arousing Coyote’s hopes of rescue,—though how they were to rescue him he did not know,—had likewise temporarily banished his keener fears. Cautiously he peeped over the edge of his eyrie and then gave vent to a shout of astonishment that went echoing and roaring off among the canyon walls.
“Mother of all the bob cats!” he howled, “here I’ve bin lying all night ez scared ez a sick puppy and not ten feet above the ground!”
Such, in fact, was the case. The trees in which the log had so fortunately landed, grew out from almost the base of the great cliff. Coyote, glancing up, saw that they were the only ones on its hundred and fifty feet of height.
“Coyote, you old idjut, ain’t you never goin’ to larn?” the cowboy admonished himself. “Why didn’t you drop suthin’ down ter see how far you was above the ground, you consarned, double-barreled old chump? You’d hev saved yourself some gray hairs ef you hed.”
Reproaching himself thus, the cow-puncher dropped lightly from one of the lower branches of the trees to the ground.
“Wish I’d done that when I slipped last night,” he said. “Hold on, though, on second thoughts, I don’t. I’d have bin dead o’ fright afore I touched the ground in that case.”
But now the hoof beats which had attracted his attention were coming nearer. The floor of the canyon was so strewn with Titanic rock masses, though, that it was impossible to see more than a few yards in either direction.
“Wonder if that ain’t thet Ramon and his bunch come ter look at ther remains?” thought Pete. “Guess I’ll be on the safe side and jes’ duck a ’hind this yar rock till I make sure.”
So saying, he slipped between two boulders into a small natural cave in which he felt he would be secure from observation, and yet be able to see what was going forward. He had not long to wait. Suddenly, around the corner of one of the huge rock piles, there swung a troop of gaily caparisoned riders; Mexicans, beyond a doubt. Their serapes streamed out behind them in the wind like gaudy streamers.