‘Well, that’s fine. Now, I think we better look around and see if there isn’t a way out.’
They worked their way down through the brush and crossed the bottom of the cañon above the cave, where they were able to climb to a wide shelf. It was here that they disturbed the buzzard host, and they went flapping and croaking their way up the side of the cliffs, only to soar in vast circles, halfway up the height of the cañon, watching with their keen eyes for those two human beings to disappear.
It was this flight of buzzards that Hashknife, Sleepy, and Lem saw from the grades.
‘They were eating a horse!’ exclaimed Nan. ‘Why, your horse never fell this high up the cañon, Rex.’
They walked over and inspected the almost obliterated carcass of a horse, which still bore a saddle. It had been a roan horse, and a strip of the skin still bore the brand of the 6X6.
‘That was one of Peter Morgan’s horses,’ declared Nan. ‘But how in the world did it get down here?’
Rex looked critically up the side of the sheer hillside.
‘It surely didn’t walk down,’ he replied. ‘I think it must have come down like my horse did—end over end.’
‘Well, I don’t like the odor,’ said Nan finally. ‘Let’s see if we can’t go down the cañon.’
In the meantime Hashknife, Sleepy, and Lem rode on to Mesa City. Spike Cahill and Bert Roddy met them at the hitch-rack, and from their general appearance they were not feeling as good as they had the evening before.