Rex secured the sticks and came back to the entrance of the cave, where he stopped and looked at the sky. The buzzards were coming for their breakfast; a whole cloud of them, zooming down, like a great fleet of black aeroplanes. Rex called Nan to the entrance to watch the birds. Some of them sailed within a few yards of them, croaking harshly. One tried to alight on the sandstone shelf, where Rex had wasted his stone on a lion, but caught sight of the two human beings, and went away with a great flapping of wings.
Their objective seemed to be just across the cañon from the cave.
‘Horrid, dirty things!’ exclaimed Nan. ‘Always looking for carrion.’
‘I suppose,’ sighed Rex. ‘Still, they might be our salvation, Nan. I remember what Hashknife said to me the night we found that horse. He said, “Sometimes it’s a good thing to follow the buzzards. You never can tell what you might find.”’
‘But do you suppose he might see the buzzards down here?’
‘He might see them as they come down, Nan. He’ll know to-day that we never reached Cañonville, and he will start a search.’
‘Oh, I hope so, Rex. But after breakfast we’ll see if there isn’t a way out of here. Come on and help cook it.’
They each ate a half-cooked quail. Without any seasoning it was far from delicious, but they ate it and pronounced it good.
‘I think you are a very brave girl, Nan,’ said Rex. ‘In fact, you are rather wonderful in every way, but you’ve got a lot of burned quail on your nose and a black smudge on one cheek. I suppose I’m a sight. But I don’t really care, do you?’
‘I don’t care how you look, Rex.’