"I am," replied Jim, "perhaps we can see it if we climb up there. Then I want to see this village; you can't make out much from here. Looks something like swallow nests built in the rafters of the old barn."
"How do you suppose the Indians get up there?" I asked, "ladders?"
"Hardly," replied Jim. "Let's look around and find out. You and Tom go around the north end and I'll ride the other way."
"All right," we responded.
So we separated after we had arrived at the middle of the east wall. We rode slowly along, but found no break in the solid grey masonry of the wall. Before rounding the northern end we waved our hats to Jim in a given signal indicating that we had found nothing so far.
The mesa must have been three quarters of a mile in length and the ends about a quarter of a mile. As we came to the west side we saw Jim riding slowly along; as yet he had found nothing. Then I saw him wave his sombrero.
"He's found it," I cried, and we started our horses at full gallop, looking like little pygmies beside the massiveness of the great mesa that loomed above us.
"Here's the main traveled road," he cried, as we galloped up.
"Can we make it?" cried Tom.
"Gee! she's narrow," I commented.