He feared that the boy had been captured on his way down.
Finally, after a rough journey of several hours' duration, the renegade came to a halt at a point where the summit fell away in two directions, to the north and to the east.

The divide seemed at least three hundred feet lower than that to the south, and sloped gradually, on the east, to a desert-like plain, beyond which ran the river.

Here the party turned east toward the river and the boundary.
Jimmie, perched on a ledge facing the north, watched Fremont moving away with a desire in his heart to send a bullet after the Englishman.
He tried to attract the attention of the captive, but did not succeed.
While the boy lay watching and listening for any sounds of rescuers coming up the slope, a great rock, somewhere to the south, went tumbling down the mountain, carrying smaller rocks with it until the rattle of falling stones sounded like the din of a battle.
The renegade started and looked about suspiciously, doubtless fearing that the slide had been caused by the incautious feet of a pursuer, but his companions smiled and informed him that such incidents were common there and not at all alarming.
Jimmie smiled, too, for when the rattle ceased he heard a Black Bear growling in a ravine not far away.

In a second the snarl of a Wolf answered the growl of the Bear, and then, almost before he became aware of their stealthy approach, Frank Shaw and Peter Fenton lay beside him in his hiding place.

It seemed to the boy, as they lay there panting from their long climb, that they had dropped out of the sky.
He gave each one a friendly kick and waited, with a grin on his face.
"Say," grunted Shaw, rolling over on his back, "I'm all fried out." "You have plenty of fat left," grinned Jimmie.