Somehow or other the conviction clung to Jack Dudley that the key to the situation was in the neighborhood of the canyon. There must be hundreds of places among the mountains where a prisoner could be hidden from human eyes, but Hazletine's interest centred in that wild gorge, and Jack was certain he had gone thither. Then there was the fact of the cowman's visit two days before, concerning which he would have said nothing but for his discovery by the boys. Why Hank should have picked his way up that dangerous place was known only to himself. Jack could form no theory to explain it. But he did not forget the dispute of the three Indians in front of the break and the start which one of them made to follow the footsteps of the white man. There must be some attraction in the canyon for them all. Jack's dread was that Hazletine, despite his undoubted skill, would frighten Tozer and Motoza by his efforts to defeat their purpose, and drive them into slaying Fred and making off before they could be punished. But the cowman had his own views, and it was too late to dissuade him. Keeping in mind the warning of his friend to use all possible circumspection in his actions, Jack was so guarded that a full hour had passed when he once more reached the break in the canyon, which had already afforded them more than one interesting experience. So far as he could judge, he was the only living person within miles. The two Indians that had flitted across his field of vision were gone, and it was impossible to say what had become of Hazletine. Determined, however, to run no unnecessary risk, Jack remained among the trees and rocks on the upper side of the break, where he could not be seen unless some one almost stepped upon him. Not satisfied with his first position, he shifted further to the right, and lay down to wait and watch. A gradual obscuring of the sky caused him to look at his watch. Could it be possible? The autumn afternoon was almost gone. Night was at hand, whereas he had supposed several hours of daylight remained. Thus valuable time had slipped past and nothing had been done for Fred Greenwood. From where Jack lay he had a perfect view of the upper gate, as it may be called, of the canyon. The gorge has already been described as narrow at the point where the foamy waters dashed through and expanded into the broad pool, after which they flowed a short way and reunited, to make their next plunge between the mountain walls on their journey to the sea thousands of miles distant. Looking across this break, the boy could penetrate with his eye for a dozen yards into the upper canyon. He saw the dripping rocks upon which the angry buck sprang, only to pause and turn back to join his companions below.