Towering high above them, sinister and awesome in the half light rose solid walls of rock.
And as the leader of the little band had rounded a jutting crag, he beheld a sight that had brought the startled cry to his lips.
Far down the canyon, two fires glowed, seeming, in the darkness, like the luminous eyes of some wild monster.
Roused by the exclamation of their companion, the others drew rein, peering intently ahead of them.
Footsore and weary, for they had travelled fast and far during the day that was just drawing to a close, the jaded horses stood, with heads hanging low, while their riders stared ahead of them.
"Them's either signal fires or camp fires," grunted one of the men, after a careful study of the brilliant lights.
"Ain't you the wise lad, though," snorted another. "You talk as though we were tenderfeet. Any fool knows they're camp or signal fires.
"It's which of the two they are that counts. Tell us that and you'll be saying something."
"Well, Comanche Tony's the laddy buck who can find out," snapped the man who had first espied the glaring fires, slipping from his saddle.
And without heeding the protests of the others, he glided away, soon being lost to sight among the rocks.