‘I suppose that is true, Nan. But do you mean that we are going to spend the night down here?’
‘Unless you know of a way out. I don’t. I doubt if there is a man in this country who could get out of here at night. We’ll just have to make the best of it, and be thankful we are alive. To-morrow, if a lion don’t claw us or a rattler bite us, we may find a way out.’
‘You are joking, Nan.’
‘I’d like to agree with you, Rex. Come on.’
It was difficult traveling over the rocks in the half-light, but they reached the bottom of the cañon with a few extra bruises. There were huge, whitened boulders in the dry bed of the old stream, relics of a day when much water had poured down through Coyote Cañon. From the side of the bank trickled a tiny stream of cold water, and they drank heavily before building a fire.
It was cold down there, and a wind moaned through the tops of the trees. There was plenty of wood, and they soon had a fire burning in the lee of a big, polished boulder. Outside the illumination of the fire was blackness and the moaning wind. A stone rolled down the slope and crashed through the brush, bringing them both to their feet in a sudden panic.
Rex piled more wood on the fire and they stood together, trying to pierce the darkness.
‘I—I guess it—it wasn’t anything,’ faltered Rex.
Nan sat down against the boulder trying to calm her nerves, while Rex hunched down beside her, poking at the fire with a stick, his ears tuned for the slightest sound.
‘I have been wondering who shot at us,’ he said nervously. ‘Do you suppose they would follow us down here, Nan?’