But once up he saw that the saddle was only a narrow ridge, curved to slope up on both sides.
Straight before Slone and under him opened the canyon, blazing and glorious along the peaks and ramparts, where the rising sun struck, misty and smoky and shadowy down in those mysterious depths.
It took an effort not to keep on gazing.

But Slone turned to the grim business of his pursuit.

The trail he saw leading down had been made by Indians.

It was used probably once a year by them; and also by wild animals, and it was exceedingly steep and rough.

Wildfire had paced to and fro along the narrow ridge of that saddle, making many tracks, before he had headed down again.