Bob was not a timid boy as a rule; in fact he was deemed rather bold; but just as he said, that dark face of Abajo had impressed him unfavorably; and he felt that the young half-breed would be furious when he learned how neatly he had been sold. Nor did anything happen during that night as they slept upon the border of the Wonderland. Both lads enjoyed a peaceful sleep, and awoke feeling as "fresh as fish," as Bob quaintly expressed it. Breakfast not being ready they walked about, viewing the astonishing features of the canyon as seen from the bluff on which the hotel stood. Down in the tremendous gap mists were curling up like little clouds, to vanish as they reached the line where the sunlight fell. It was a sight that appalled Bob, who declared that he felt as though looking into the crater of some vast volcano. "Well," remarked Frank, "they did have volcanos around here, after this canyon was pretty well formed, though perhaps thousands of years ago. Great beds of lava have been found down in the bottom of the hole, so my little guide book tells me. But look away off there, Bob, and see that peak standing up like the rim of a cloud. Do you know what that is?" "I heard one man say," Bob replied, quickly, "Navajo Peak could be seen on a clear morning, and perhaps that's the one; but Frank, just think, it's about a hundred and twenty miles off. Whew! they do things on a big scale around here; don't they? I'd call it the playground of giants." "And you'd about hit the bulls eye," his chum observed; "but there goes the call for breakfast." "I feel as if I could stow away enough for a crowd, this mountain air is so fresh and invigorating," Bob remarked, as they headed for the dining room. Half an hour later they were once more in front of the hotel, and interviewing a guide who had been recommended by the manager as an experienced canyon man. It ended in their making terms with John Henry, as the fellow gave his name; though of course Frank was too wise to tell him what their real object was in exploring the tremendous gap. That could come later on. At about nine o'clock they started down the trail that led from Grand View into the depths of the fearful dip. And as they descended, following their guide, Bob found himself realizing the colossal size of everything connected with the rainbow-hued canyon walls. Nor was his mind made any easier when Frank took occasion, half an hour later, to bend toward him, and say in the most natural manner possible, though in low tones: "They're on the job again, Bob--Abajo and Eugene--because I happened to see them watching us start down the trail; and they had some one along with them, perhaps a guide; so we'll have to take it for granted that they mean to dog us all the time, hoping to steal our thunder, if we make any lucky find!" CHAPTER XIV THE HOME OF THE CLIFF DWELLERS