Grace decided to signal for assistance, and pointing her rifle into the air she fired three times at intervals. She waited, listening intently. There was no response that she could hear, so she fired three more signal shots.
This time three faint reports were borne to her ears, but whether they were the echoes of her own shots or the answer to her signals, Grace did not know.
When about to move forward again, Grace’s nerves gave a tremendous jump as a human voice sounded close at hand.
“What do you all reckon you’re shootin’ at?” demanded the voice. It was a woman’s voice, which, in the circumstances, was a welcome thing to Grace Harlowe, even though it was a voice that she did not know.
Grace whirled and brought her rifle to bear on the owner of the voice. She peered into the darkness and was barely able to make out the form of the speaker.
“Who are you?” demanded Grace.
“I reckon you’d better say somethin’ for yourself,” answered the woman.
“Very well. I am looking for a young woman who is missing from my party, and who, I believe, came up this canyon.”
“Is her name Dean?”
“Yes, yes!” cried Grace. “You have found her?”