This inclosed nook seemed an ideal place to leave his horse and to camp at night, and from which to make stealthy trips on foot.

The thick grass hid his trail; the dense growth of oaks in the opening would serve as a barrier to keep Wrangle in, if, indeed, the luxuriant browse would not suffice for that.

So Venters, leaving Whitie with the horse, called Ring to his side, and, rifle in hand, worked his way out to the open.

A careful photographing in mind of the formation of the bold outlines of rimrock assured him he would be able to return to his retreat even in the dark.
Bunches of scattered sage covered the center of the canyon, and among these Venters threaded his way with the step of an Indian.

At intervals he put his hand on the dog and stopped to listen.