They kept on in this way until late in the afternoon, when they stopped and dismounted, deciding that they would have a bite to eat.

“It doesn’t look as if we were going to have any luck, does it, Tad?” asked Walter in a disappointed tone.

“No, it doesn’t.  But one never can tell.  In hunting game you know it comes upon one suddenly.  You have to be ever on the alert.  We know that the dogs have been on the trail of something.”

“Perhaps deer,” suggested Walter.

“Yes, it is possible, though I don’t know whether those dogs will trail deer or not.  You know they may be trained to hunt lions.  I didn’t hear Mr. Nance say.”

They were munching biscuit and eating oranges as they rested, which must have tasted good to them.  The temperature was going down with the day, though the light was strong in the canyon where they were standing.  Above them the jagged, broken cliffs rose tier on tier until they seemed to disappear far up in the fleecy clouds that were drifting lazily over the Canyon.

All at once Silver Face, Tad’s pony, exhibited signs of restlessness, which seemed to be quickly communicated to the other animal.  The pintos stamped, shook their heads and snorted.

“Whoa!  What’s wrong with you fellows?” demanded Tad, eyeing the ponies keenly.  “Smell something, eh?”

“Maybe they smell oats,” suggested Walter.

“I guess not.  They are a long way from oats at the present moment.”

Tad paused abruptly.  A pebble had rattled down the rocky wall and bounded off some yards to the front of them.  Silver Face started and would have bounded away had not a firm hand been at that instant laid on the bridle rein.

To one unaccustomed to the mountains the incident might have passed unnoticed.  By this time Tad Butler was a pretty keen woodsman as well as plainsman.  He had learned to take notice of everything.  Even the most trivial signs hold a meaning all their own for the man who habitually lives close to Nature.

The lad glanced sharply at the rocks.

“See anything?” asked Walter.

“No.”

“What did you think you heard?”

“I didn’t hear anything but that pebble.  The horses smelled something, though.”

While he was speaking the lad’s glances were traveling slowly over the rocks above.  All at once he paused.

“Don’t stir, Walt.  Look up.”

“Where?”

“In line with that cloud that looks like a dragon.  Then lower your glance slowly.  I think you will see something worth while.”

It was a full moment before Walter Perkins discovered that to which his attention had been called.

“It’s a cat,” breathed Walt, almost in awe.

“Yes, that’s a lion.  He is evidently hiding up there, where he has gone to get away from the dogs.  We will walk away a bit as if we were leaving.  Then we’ll tether the horses securely.  Don’t act as if you saw the beast.  I know now what was the matter with the mustangs.  They scented that beast up there.”