Long before he reached that summit be heard the dull rumble of the river.

It grew to be a roar, yet it seemed distant.

Would the great desert river stop Wildfire in his flight?
Slone doubted it.

He surmounted the ridge, to find the canyon opening in a tremendous gap, and to see down, far down, a glittering, sun-blasted slope merging into a deep, black gulch where a red river swept and chafed and roared.
Somehow the river was what he had expected to see.

A force that had cut and ground this canyon could have been nothing but a river like that.
The trail led down, and Slone had no doubt that it crossed the river and led up out of the canyon.