He neared the rocky barricade without discovering any thing that could possibly afford concealment for a horse, and then crouching down, he narrowly examined the pile. It will be remembered that he, in company with the other young hunters, had searched the _opposite_ side of the barricade, on the night Fred Hawksley disappeared. Campbell saw numerous crevices and small cavities, but none nearly large enough to admit the passage of a horse, yet, knowing that upon this point rested his last chance, he set about his work. First he started the big horse out, a few yards from the escarpment, beyond sight from the ravine, yet so that a single leap would carry him ready to mount. Then with strips cut from his hunting-shirt, he carefully bound the twigs and dried grass upon his head and shoulders, in such a manner that his vision was unobstructed, while concealing his form. This arranged to his satisfaction, he lay down upon the ground, with eyes riveted upon the rocky pile, his weapons ready for use. Ned was a true hunter. More than once he had lain in wait for game almost without stirring a muscle, for half a day. And now this quality stood him in good stead; only this time his game was human. For two hours he lay motionless, patiently watching, only shifting his gaze occasionally up the _baranca_, to make sure that his quarry was not escaping him in that direction. As he cautiously turned his head toward the barricade, after one of these glances, a glow of light filled his eyes, and he started convulsively. He saw that his surmises were well founded. Before him stood the woman—the strange rider whom he firmly believed to be a decoy for some deep and subtle purpose. Campbell could plainly distinguish her features, together with the upper portion of her form as she stood behind a bowlder, her face uplifted toward his position. Even in that brief glance he was forcibly impressed with her beauty. He had time but for the one glance, for then the vision disappeared like magic. How, was plain. He could still see the dark niche that her form had filled, and he knew that this must be the entrance to some underground retreat that had, most probably, been washed out by the surgings of the water that frequently filled the _baranca_ to its brim, in the rainy seasons. His resolution was taken in a moment. He forgot his usual prudence, in the thought that the solution of his friend’s strange disappearance lay within his grasp. He did not give a thought to the danger he might be running, nor of the force he might encounter in his search for the strange woman. “Run to earth at last!” he muttered as he looked to the caps of his revolvers. “You shall not escape me this time. I’ll know where Fred is if I have to force the words from your lips.”