"Now, whether to call this the trail o' the Spaniards, ag'in, or an Injun trail, I dunno," mused John Sparks, as they all grouped, examining.
"It's a hoss trail, plain enough," uttered Bill Gordon.
"'Tis hard to read, that's a fact," Sergeant Meek said. "But it leads somewheres, and like as not to the Red River that the cap'n's looking for, in Comanche country. Anyhow, we've done all we can, for to-day; and it's time we went back down and reported."
"Sure, he'll have no excuse for takin' us through betwixt them high cliffs," declared Alex Roy. "We'd be drowneded, hosses an' all. 'Tis a tough-lookin' hole, with no end in sight, an' the rocks covered with ice."
"Come on, boys," bade the sergeant, "or we'll be late for supper."
They turned and marched back, down river, to camp. This evening the lieutenant talked the report over with the doctor. They decided to proceed up the river, to the dry valley, and follow the trail.
The dry valley, below where the river gushed out of the break in the cliff barrier, was reached in one day's march. Camp was made in it at night-fall. This, according to the doctor, was the evening of the tenth day of December. The horses were watered
