“There’s water here—­and this is the place for me,” said Venters.  “Only birds can peep over those walls, I’ve gone Oldring one better.”

Venters waited no longer, and turned swiftly to retrace his steps.  He named the canyon Surprise Valley and the huge boulder that guarded the outlet Balancing Rock.  Going down he did not find himself attended by such fears as had beset him in the climb; still, he was not easy in mind and could not occupy himself with plans of moving the girl and his outfit until he had descended to the notch.  There he rested a moment and looked about him.  The pass was darkening with the approach of night.  At the corner of the wall, where the stone steps turned, he saw a spur of rock that would serve to hold the noose of a lasso.  He needed no more aid to scale that place.  As he intended to make the move under cover of darkness, he wanted most to be able to tell where to climb up.  So, taking several small stones with him, he stepped and slid down to the edge of the slope where he had left his rifle and boots.  He placed the stones some yards apart.  He left the rabbit lying upon the bench where the steps began.  Then he addressed a keen-sighted, remembering gaze to the rim-wall above.  It was serrated, and between two spears of rock, directly in line with his position, showed a zigzag crack that at night would let through the gleam of sky.  This settled, he put on his belt and boots and prepared to descend.  Some consideration was necessary to decide whether or not to leave his rifle there.  On the return, carrying the girl and a pack, it would be added encumbrance; and after debating the matter he left the rifle leaning against the bench.  As he went straight down the slope he halted every few rods to look up at his mark on the rim.  It changed, but he fixed each change in his memory.  When he reached the first cedar-tree, he tied his scarf upon a dead branch, and then hurried toward camp, having no more concern about finding his trail upon the return trip.

Darkness soon emboldened and lent him greater speed.  It occurred to him, as he glided into the grassy glade near camp and head the whinny of a horse, that he had forgotten Wrangle.  The big sorrel could not be gotten into Surprise Valley.  He would have to be left here.

Venters determined at once to lead the other horses out through the thicket and turn them loose.  The farther they wandered from this canyon the better it would suit him.  He easily descried Wrangle through the gloom, but the others were not in sight.  Venters whistled low for the dogs, and when they came trotting to him he sent them out to search for the horses, and followed.  It soon developed that they were not in the glade nor the thicket.  Venters grew cold and rigid at the thought of rustlers having entered his retreat.  But the thought passed, for the demeanor of Ring and Whitie reassured him.  The horses had wandered away.

Under the clump of silver spruces a denser mantle of darkness, yet not so thick that Venter’s night-practiced eyes could not catch the white oval of a still face.  He bent over it with a slight suspension of breath that was both caution lest he frighten her and chill uncertainty of feeling lest he find her dead.  But she slept, and he arose to renewed activity.