With Ladd leading, they moved away into the gloom.  Advance was exceedingly slow, careful, silent.  Under the walls the blackness seemed impenetrable.  The horse was as cautious as his master.  Ladd did not lose his way, nevertheless he wound between blocks of stone and clumps of mesquite, and often tried a passage to abandon it.  Finally the trail showed pale in the gloom, and eastern stars twinkled between the lofty ramparts of the pass.

The advance here was still as stealthily made as before, but not so difficult or slow.  When the dense gloom of the pass lightened, and there was a wide space of sky and stars overhead, Ladd halted and stood silent a moment.

“Luck again!” he whispered.  “The wind’s in your face, Jim.  The horses won’t scent you.  Go slow.  Don’t crack a stone.  Keep close under the wall.  Try to get up as high as this at the other end.  Wait till daylight before riskin’ a loose slope.  I’ll be ridin’ the job early.  That’s all.”

Ladd’s cool, easy speech was scarcely significant of the perilous undertaking.  Lash moved very slowly away, leading his horse.  The soft pads of hoofs ceased to sound about the time the gray shape merged into the black shadows.  Then Ladd touched Dick’s arm, and turned back up the trail.

But Dick tarried a moment.  He wanted a fuller sense of that ebony-bottomed abyss, with its pale encircling walls reaching up to the dusky blue sky and the brilliant stars.  There was absolutely no sound.

He retraced his steps down, soon coming up with Ladd; and together they picked a way back through the winding recesses of cliff.  The campfire was smoldering.  Ladd replenished it and lay down to get a few hours’ sleep, while Gale kept watch.  The after part of the night wore on till the paling of stars, the thickening of gloom indicated the dark hour before dawn.  The spot was secluded from wind, but the air grew cold as ice.  Gale spent the time stripping wood from a dead mesquite, in pacing to and fro, in listening.  Blanco Sol stamped occasionally, which sound was all that broke the stilliness.  Ladd awoke before the faintest gray appeared.  The rangers ate and drank.  When the black did lighten to gray they saddled the horses and led them out to the pass and down to the point where they had parted with Lash.  Here they awaited daylight.

To Gale it seemed long in coming.  Such a delay always aggravated the slow fire within him.  He had nothing of Ladd’s patience.  He wanted action.  The gray shadow below thinned out, and the patch of mesquite made a blot upon the pale valley.  The day dawned.

Still Ladd waited.  He grew more silent, grimmer as the time of action approached.  Gale wondered what the plan of attack would be.  Yet he did not ask.  He waited ready for orders.

The valley grew clear of gray shadow except under leaning walls on the eastern side.  Then a straight column of smoke rose from among the mesquites.  Manifestly this was what Ladd had been awaiting.  He took the long .405 from its sheath and tried the lever.  Then he lifted a cartridge belt from the pommel of his saddle.  Every ring held a shell and these shells were four inches long.  He buckled the belt round him.