"My father is riding up ahead," rejoined Harry; "that big bay of his can make two feet to a pony's one. He'll call a halt when we get there."
In the meantime a rumor had been passed from mouth to mouth among the cow-punchers. Moquis had been seen near the far pasture the night before, and open accusations were made that the renegades had started the stampede so as to be able to make a feast off the dead cattle in case they swept over the cliffs.
"Mr. Mayberry hasn't succeeded in rounding them up yet, then," said Rob.
"No," rejoined Harry, "and I heard one of the punchers say yesterday that Indians for miles around are coming into the mountains. I guess they won't disperse till after the snake dance."
Suddenly a wild yell from up in front caused them to halt.
"Got there, I reckon," uttered one of the cowboys. As he spoke there was but one question in every mind.
"Were they in time?"
As the dust cloud settled, and they were able to make out their surroundings, the boys found that they had come to halt on a sort of plateau. Just beyond this was a sheer drop, as if a great hunk had been cut out of the ground. This drop—which was fully sixty feet deep,—formed the dreaded Graveyard Cliff, so called, although, as will be clear from our description, it was more properly a deep, narrow gulch.
The distance across the yawning crack in the plateau—which was undoubtedly of volcanic origin—varied from a hundred feet or more to fifteen, and even less. A queerer place the boys had never seen.
But they had little time to gaze about them. Blinky, who was one of the crowd of stampede arresters, gave a sudden shout as they came to a halt.