So absorbed was the watcher in the remarkable grace and muscle of the descent, that he did not at first recognise this second visitor to the valley. When he did he rubbed his eyes, directed his glasses again, and gasped.
Professor Bulkeley!
The big man walked fearlessly along the narrow ledge, a hundred feet above the valley, disappeared from Stamford's sight, and after a time came into view again on the lower ledge. The dogs bounded up rude steps cut in the rock before the shack, welcoming him with waving tails and whimpering barks. He stooped to rub their ears, then at a word they quieted and fell in at his heels as he dropped to the valley. A second command sent them to their stomachs, while the Professor advanced slowly toward the cattle. The nearer ones raised their heads from the long grass and examined him suspiciously, but he stood still, and they returned to their feeding. Slowly the Professor moved round the herd, eyeing them from every angle. After a time he came down to the water's edge and looked up and down the river, intently examining the opposite cliff.
Stamford lay motionless, only his eyes showing.
Whistling to the dogs, the Professor went off to the eastern side of the valley and began to pick his way upward, peering about him as Cockney had done. On the very rock where Cockney had stood he paused a long time, looking across the valley and all about at his back. Below, the dogs watched him with clumsily wagging tails. When next he came into sight it was on the ledge beside the shack. This he skirted back and forward but did not enter. Then, with a farewell pat to the dogs, he disappeared the way he had come and came out on the upper ledge.
Hand over hand he went up the rope almost as rapidly as he had descended a half-hour before, and a few seconds later two lolling dogs and a herd of feeding cattle were the only life in the valley.
Stamford lay where he was for a long time. He had no hope of seeing more that day, but he did not wish to be seen. The dogs lay on the lower edge, their heads outstretched on their paws. Below them contented steers sank their noses into such grass as they had never before eaten, and drank from sparkling streams that were nectar to their alkali-parched throats. A heavy-footed farmer might have issued from the unsightly shack and whistled lazily to the dogs to fetch the cows for milking.
Stamford smiled at the fancy.
Thoughtfully he retraced his steps under cover of the jagged cliff for almost a mile, where he emerged on the prairie and made swiftly for home.
He was late for dinner, but they were holding it for him. Cockney had not returned.