A few minutes carried the Night-Hawk chief to the edge of the _baranca_, and then he hastened along the verge, seeking for a spot down which he might clamber without too severely exerting his wounded arm. A mutter of satisfaction greeted his success, and Morton cautiously groped his way along a winding trail that evidently led down to the bottom. He, even then, noticed that this trail had been used, but that gave him no uneasiness. So too had a score of paths at as many different points, by both human and beast. The trail led him toward the southern extremity of the _baranca_, and on reaching the bottom, he naturally continued on in that direction. For some time he sought among the huge, thick-lying bowlders for a snug covert, without finding any that satisfied him. Before him loomed up the rocky barricade that had checked the progress of the young hunters while engaged in their search for Fred Hawksley, earlier on that same night. Morton, however, had reached the opposite side, facing the north, instead of south. Among this pile of bowlders Morton hoped to find a secure refuge, and had almost gained its foot when a low cry broke from his lips, and he abruptly paused, crouching down to the ground, one hand clutching a revolver-butt. A strange object had caught his gaze—doubly strange in that place. “Was it only fancy?” he muttered, peering curiously forward. “I don’t see it now—it’s gone! And yet I don’t think it was a fire-fly. Ha!” While muttering these words the outlaw slowly rose erect until he assumed his former position. The exclamation told that he had again caught sight of the object. This was a small point of light, clear and brilliant, glowing steadily and unchangeably. As he slowly raised his head, Morton saw that this only shone from a small aperture, for beyond a certain point, in either direction, it was invisible. For a time the Night-Hawk chief forgot his bodily pain and exhaustion in wonder. There was something strange in this light, shining from that lone and wild spot, that he resolved to investigate. Keeping his eye riveted upon the star-like point, he slowly and cautiously advanced, with almost every step losing sight of the light, but then recovering it again. In this manner he gained the lower bowlders, and it seemed now that he could reach the light by simply outstretching his hand. Instinctively he raised an arm, then laughed faintly at his own credulity. Cautiously Morton climbed further among the rocks, his eyes still fixed upon the light. A fragment crumbled beneath his hand, and he fell forward, striking his head with violence upon the rock. The shock and pain wrung a slight cry from his lips, and the pistol slipped from his grasp, clattering sharply upon the stones, fortunately not exploding. Quickly recovering himself, Morton glanced forward; but the light was gone!