We were in hopes that the Indians had by this time passed clear through the gorge, and ridden out into the valley above. In that case there would be no great risk in our proceeding to the upper end. Our expectations did not deceive us. We reached the mouth of the chasm-- without having seen other signs of those who had proceeded us, than the tracks of their horses. We had heard sounds, however, that had given us some apprehension--the reports of guns--not as during the early part of the day, in single shots, but in half-dozens at a time, and once or twice in large volleys--as if of a scattering _fusillade_! The sounds came from the direction of the upper valley; and were but faintly heard--so faintly that we were in doubt, as to whether they were the reports of fire-arms. The grumbling and rushing of the river hindered us from hearing them more distinctly. But for the presence of Indians in the valley--about which we were quite certain--we should perhaps not have noticed the sounds, or else have taken them for something else. Perhaps we might have conjectured, that a gang of buffaloes had passed near the train-- leading to a brisk emptying of rifles. But the presence of the Indians rendered this hypothesis less probable. We still continued to observe caution. Before emerging from the defile, we halted near its entrance--Wingrove and myself stealing forward to reconnoitre. An elevated post--which we obtained upon a shelf of the rock--gave us a commanding prospect of the upper valley. The sight restored our confidence: _the caravan was in view_! CHAPTER FIFTY ONE. THE ORPHAN BUTTE. The landscape over which we were looking was one that has long been celebrated, in the legends of trapper and _cibolero_, and certainly no lovelier is to be met with in the midland regions of America. Though new to my eyes, I recognised it from the descriptions I had read and heard of it. There was an idiosyncrasy in its features--especially in that lone mound rising conspicuously in its midst--which at once proclaimed it the valley of the _Huerfano_. There stood the "Orphan Butte." There was no mistaking its identity.