believe, La Capilla Blanca, the White Chapel. That title may endure. At any rate, it is the only formation of white rock that has that appearance, and the open tunnel was some fifty feet to the west of it. You may have noticed it?"
"I have a vague recollection of it," said Sheridan. "More than a vague one, as I think. The name should help."
"The wagons entered this ravine, the men whooping, the rearguard, save Juan on his lame horse, caught up with it, the women coming out of the mouth of the first cave.
"Much of these cliffs is formed of clay. It burns and hardens, it weathers, leaches in the heavy rains that break there, breaks off by various causes, lowered temperature at nightfall, one of them, and great masses that look like broken bricks come charging down the cliffs. It was well after sunset when they reached the place. There was a moon, and fires leaping within the cave mouth. No doubt it was cold.
"At all events, when the wagons and their escort were well within this open tunnel, Juan, arriving at its opening, turned in, heard a gathering sound as of thunder, and saw, rushing in clouds of dust, sweeping down from the cliffs, tons of this weathered clay. It rushed, swift as water, into the tunnel. It buried the men and the wagons, smothering their shrieks, trapping them, burying them deep, with the women waiting in the caves.
"Juan's wounded horse, stiffened with fright, balked and Juan flung himself from the saddle, but
