He did not look at it again until the first gaunt, red shoulder of the sandstone mountain began to loom over them.

An hour had passed since he left Joanne.

Ahead of him, perhaps a mile distant, was the cragged spur beyond which--according to the sketch Keller had drawn for him at the engineers' camp--was the rough canyon leading back to the basin on the far side of the mountain.

He had almost reached this when MacDonald rode up.
"You go back, Johnny," he said, a singular softness in his hollow voice.
"We're a'most there." He cast his eyes over the western peaks, where dark clouds were shouldering their way up in the face of the sun, and added: "There's rain in that.

I'll trot on ahead with Pinto and have a tent ready when you come.