At that moment the scout’s attention was attracted to another defile opening into the left wall of the one they were following.
It was a narrow break in the lavalike crust of the earth, and, inasmuch as its trend was due east and west, the sun penetrated it to the bottom.
It is doubtful whether the scout would have paid much attention to the defile had the sunlight not rested upon some object which flashed in his eyes.
The wide-awake Dell caught the flash as quickly as did the scout.
“Is that a piece of ore with mica in it, Buffalo Bill?” she queried, pulling up her horse.
“It may be,” was the scout’s response. “But we’ll take a look at the thing and make sure of it before we pass on.”
Together they rode over to the mouth of the smaller gulch.
The flashing object was not a piece of iron pyrites, but a short, double-edged knife.
With an exclamation, the scout hung down from his saddle and picked it up.
On the flat handle was a very crude drawing of a horse, burned into the horn.