Cultus was sitting on the edge of that sandstone parapet, finishing his cigarette, when he saw something move below him; something which threw a heavy shadow against the blue-white of the broken rocks. That it might be a lion flashed through his mind, and he wondered how the lion ever got down for his hunting.
Then the thing came out in plain view—a man. It was quite a shock to see a man up there, and Cultus wondered if it was one of the men who had fired the shots at him and Jane. It was possibly a hundred feet from where Cultus sat to where the man stood, and between them was a yawning abyss.
Cultus sat perfectly still and watched the man. It was impossible to determine whether it was a big man or a small one. Finally the man started westward, disappearing behind the broken sandstone. Cultus slid back to the trail and went cautiously back, trying to see the man again.
After a while he again saw him. From his actions he was either looking for something or examining something. Cultus and Jane had not been along where this man was; so it was evident he was not tracking them. Finally he turned and went back the way he came. Cultus paralleled him back to where he had first seen him, and then the man disappeared, still going east.
Cultus went back to Jane and shook her by the shoulder. He had some difficulty in arousing her and making her realise where she was. Then he told her about the man.
“Is he looking for us?” she asked anxiously.
“Mebby he is, Jane; but no matter what he’s doin’, there’s a way off these cliffs, and we’re goin’ to follow him right now. We’ve got to go back quite a ways to get down to the level where I saw him. Can yuh walk that far?”
She got to her feet, every muscle protesting.
“If we don’t go too fast,” she said painfully.
Cultus led the way back to a place where they might climb down to a lower trail. They both walked like people with wooden feet. The twisting way seemed endless, and they tried to go cautiously. Finally they came to the spot where Cultus had first seen the man, but there was no sign of him now. Still that broken old trail continued, twisting around spires of broken sandstone, and always going down.