The gentle breeze blowing down the canyon brought to their ears the rustling of the dry poplar-leaves and the faint murmur of the stream which, tumbling down the canyon, accompanied the main trail a hundred yards away.
Suddenly Cameron's hand fell upon the knee of the half-breed with a swift grip.
"Listen!" he said, bending forward.
With mouths slightly open and with hands to their ears they both sat motionless, breathless, every nerve on strain.

Gradually the dead silence seemed to resolve itself into rhythmic waves of motion rather than of sound--"TUM-ta-ta-TUM.

TUM-ta-ta-TUM.

TUM-ta-ta-TUM." It was the throb of the Indian medicine-drum, which once heard can never be forgotten or mistaken.

Without a word to each other they rose, doused their fire, cached their saddles, blankets and grub, and, taking only their revolvers, set off up the canyon.