He urged his horse forward, and descended below the level of the prairie. But a very few moments convinced him that even if he could descend to the bottom, he could do little good without lights, and turning he scrambled once more to the level ground. He saw that his comrades had come up, and were now standing as if amazed. His was the figure that drew the cry of astonishment from Craig Fenton. “Quick, boys,” cried Campbell, riding toward them, “dismount and get something for torches. They must be down there—but whether dead or alive, God only knows!” “You think that she—” began Fenton, in a low, hushed voice. “I don’t know—I’m afraid to think. But don’t talk—make haste. We must search the ravine.” The woods were near, and the young hunters well knew what to select for torches. In a very few minutes they were back to the edge of the _baranca_, where Ned Campbell had already kindled a light with his flint and steel. Bearing the feebly-flickering torches, the party descended into the _baranca_ by the path that, though rough, was amply wide. They slowly advanced along the rough, rock-strewn bottom, holding aloft their torches, expecting with each movement to come upon the dead and mangled form of their young friend. The flaring lights caused the shadows to dance and move weirdly, and a dozen times in as many minutes, their hearts were set in a wild, sickening shudder as one of their number believed he beheld the object of their quest. But as often the mistake was proved. The search was continued in silence. None cared to speak. The same superstitious feeling was upon all. All in all, the night was one not soon to be forgotten. They had carefully searched the _baranca_ upon both sides of the spot for which the trail had pointed, and yet nothing was discovered. They interchanged glances. Could it be that the chase had turned and skirted the ravine? Campbell answered the thought, positively. “Not unless they entered the timber. It runs for nearly three miles, and this gully for a good ten. I should have seen them. No, you may laugh, but I believe they are somewhere in this ravine. We know now that he did not ride into it, here. But you know Fred. He don’t know what fear is. If that woman rode into this—and further up there are a dozen places where it could be done, if one was only acquainted with the ground—he followed her. He could never quit the chase until he caught her or—she turned into air!” “Well, what shall we do? Fire a volley to let him know we’re looking for him?” asked Fenton.