“Emma, I think those men were our bandits. I wonder!”
“Wonder what?”
“I wonder if they are not on their way to the Overton camp? Emma Dean, I believe we are in our own canyon, or near it!” cried Grace, a trace of excitement in her tone.
“Even if we are, we cannot find our way out in the darkness,” answered Emma helplessly.
“Yes we can. At least we cannot get far out of our way unless we climb a mountain, and that we shall not do. Let’s get down, but be as quiet as possible, for we must not be caught again. It will go hard with us if we are.”
“Suppose they should catch us?” questioned Emma anxiously.
“Those men are desperate, but if they get us again it will be after I have no shells left in my weapons.”
Grace began cautiously scrambling down the mountainside, followed by her companion, who exhibited less caution. The critical moment for the girls was when they reached the bottom, and for several moments after setting their feet on solid ground, they stood listening.
“Come! They have gone,” decided Grace, slipping a hand into her companion’s. “We will follow the canyon until we land somewhere.”
They picked their way as carefully as was possible in the darkness, but the going was so rough that Grace finally took to the little mountain stream, and plodded on down it, until the sound of a greater volume of water ahead caught her ears. She thereupon immediately stepped from the stream, proceeding with caution, and in a few moments they came to the stream that Grace had heard. There, the Overton girl felt about with her hands for a time, then lighted a match.