The horses were staked out, and supper made ready while the shadows were dropping; and when darkness settled thick over us, we lay under our blankets.
Morning disclosed the White Mustang's secret passage.

It was a narrow cleft, splitting the canyon wall, rough, uneven, tortuous and choked with fallen rocks--no more than a wonderful crack in solid stone, opening into another canyon.

Above us the sky seemed a winding, flowing stream of blue.

The walls were so close in places that a horse with pack would have been blocked, and a rider had to pull his legs up over the saddle.

On the far side, the passage fell very suddenly for several hundred feet to the floor of the other canyon.