It looks a little the likest." Of course his fellow-fugitive did not dissent, and they struck into the right-hand ravine; but not until Walt Wilder had plucked the red kerchief from his head, and flung it as far as he could up the left one, where it was left lying in a conspicuous position among the rocks.
He did not say why he had thus strangely abandoned the remnant of his head-gear; but his companion, sufficiently experienced in the ways and wiles of prairie life, stood in no need of an explanation.
The track they had now taken was of comparatively easy ascent; and it was this, perhaps, that had tempted Wilder to take it.

But like most things within the moral and physical world, its easiness proved a delusion.

They had not gone twenty paces further up when the sloping chasm terminated.

It debouched on a little platform, covered with large loose stones, and there rested after having fallen from the cliff above.
But at a single glance they saw that this cliff could not be scaled.
They had entered into a trap, out of which there was no chance of escape or retreat without throwing themselves back upon the breasts of their pursuers.
The Indians were already ascending the main ravine.

By their voices it could be told that they had reached the point where it divided; for there was a momentary suspension of their cries, as with the baying of hounds thrown suddenly off the scent.
It would not be for long.