It was easy to believe that Hank Hazletine had made his way up the canyon by leaping from rock to rock, with little more result than the wetting of his shoes.
"It might be done in the daytime," said Jack, "but I should not want to try it at night." "The water must be very deep in many places; and flows so fast that the strongest swimmer couldn't help himself.

I should prefer to climb the wall, as Hank did." "But that would be dangerous in the darkness." "The best thing we can do is to do neither," observed Fred, with a laugh.

"I have a good deal of curiosity to know what led Hank to pick his way up the canyon, but I haven't enough to lead me to follow him----" Jack Dudley suddenly gripped the arm of his friend and drew him back from the boulder on which they had been sitting.

Fred nearly lost his balance, and did not know what to make of the proceeding until both checked themselves at a safe distance and cautiously peeped forth.

Then the cause of Jack's excitement became apparent.
From the pines on the other side of the stream, and near the middle of the depressed portion, three Indians stepped into view.