"We're not supposed to be here at all!" "There's nobody out lookin' for a light in this canyon to-night," grumbled Jimmie.
As he spoke he seized Nestor by the arm and drew him back.
"What's that square of light down there ?" he asked.
"Probably the camp we are bound for," was the reply.
"Then we've made better time down here than that lobster of an Englishman did," the boy exclaimed.

"It took him most of the afternoon to climb down the hills, and we've been only about two hours on the way." "It seems that we came by a much shorter and easier route," Nestor replied.

"Where the other party was obliged to wind around precipices and crags, we made our way along the beds of what was once a succession of streams, cutting the side of the mountain into canyons.

Wait here, boys," he added, "until I go down there and see what the situation is." "Just you hold on until I let Fremont know we are coming!" Jimmie said, and the next moment the wolf-cry which Fremont had first heard rang out.
"Sounds like a wet wolf!" declared Frank.
"I know of a Black Bear that ain't any dryer!" replied Jimmie.
Nestor reached the level space in front of the west window of the hut just as the guard left the corner in the interest of a little warmth.
The steady fall of the rain and the swish of the wind drowned any noises he made, and so he crept up to the wall of the structure without fear of discovery.
During the talk between the renegade and Fremont the patrol leader crouched under the window, listening.

He heard the inquiries concerning Fremont's early connection with Mr.Cameron with surprise.
Who was this man, he asked himself, who knew so much of Fremont's early life?
What motive could he have in seeking to learn more about it than he already knew?
Unable to solve the problem, and realizing that the time for prompt action had come, he retreated from the window and with a low whistle summoned the boys to his side.