“Very well,” agreed Frank. “We shall look for you to-morrow.”
“Yas.”
The Steam Horse was brought to a stop and Beaver Bill left the wagon.
He proceeded to loosen the saddle from his pony’s back and give him freedom.
Fortunately there was a brief space of green grass here, and the little animal was enabled to get a bite.
The Steam Horse went on to the entrance of Death Valley.
Soon a plateau was encountered and crossed, then a plain beyond it, and then the travelers saw the pass before them.
Upon either hand rose mighty walls of rock.
It was like the veritable gateway to a Hades, and in spite of themselves all experienced a queer chill.
But Frank kept on until the Steam Horse was fairly in the pass.