The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon Part 20

Frank called a halt then and there.

"We're tired, anyway," he said, "and might as well spend the night here.

Besides, I just want to find a place were I can take a good look through the gla.s.s up at that cliff near the top. It faces the West, all right, you see; and the indications are that somewhere or other I'll find signs of the queer windows belonging to some of those cave houses."

The camp was made, and Charley Moi busied himself with his fire. Bob had some things he wished to attend to; while Frank took the gla.s.s, and, settling down in a place where he believed he could get a fair view of the upper strata of colored rock, began carefully scrutinizing the cliff.

"The time is right, because the old Indian said the Westering sun shone in the mouth of Echo Cave," Frank mused, as he pursued his work, not disappointed because failure came in the beginning.

Frank had been at work possibly six or eight minutes when he gave utterance to a low exclamation. Then he fixed his field gla.s.ses upon a certain spot as though something had caught his attention there.

"Bob!" he called out.

"Want me?" asked his chum from the spot where the fire was burning.

"Yes, come here please," Frank continued.

Bob quickly complied with the request. He knew that although his camp-mate spoke in such a quiet tone, he had evidently made a discovery.

Frank could repress his feelings even in a moment of great excitement, which was something beyond the ability of the more impetuous Kentucky lad.

"What have you found, Frank?" he asked, as he reached the side of the other.

"Here, take the gla.s.s," said Frank. "Point it toward that little cone that seems to rise up like a chimney above the level of the cliff top.

Got it now? Well, let your gla.s.s slowly drop straight down the face of the rock. Never mind the glint of the sun, and the fine rich color. I know it's just glorious, and all that; but we're after something more important now than pictures and color effects. What do you see, Bob?"

"Honest now, I believe you've hit the bulls-eye this time, Frank."

"Then you think they're windows, about after the same style as those holes in the rock where we climbed up the ladders to the deserted homes of the old time cliff dwellers?" asked the other.

"Sure they are; no mistake about it, either," replied Bob, and then he gave a low exclamation.

"What did you see?" demanded Frank, as if suspecting the truth.

"I don't know," came the reply; "but something seemed to move just inside one of those openings. It may have been a garment fluttering in the breeze that must be blowing so far up the heights; and then, again, perhaps some hawk, or other bird, has its nest there, and just flew past. I couldn't say, Frank; but I saw _something_, and it moved!"

Frank took the gla.s.s, and looked long and earnestly.

"Whatever it was," he remarked, "it doesn't mean to repeat the act. But all the same, Bob, I've got a hunch we've found the place, and that Echo Cave lies far up yonder in that beetling cliff."

"It's a fierce reach up there," remarked Bob, as he scanned the height.

"How under the sun d'ye suppose that old professor could ever get up and down? Too far for him to have a rope ladder; and even if he had, how could he reach the place at first? Frank, all the way up, I can't see the first sign of any rock shelves, where ladders might have rested long ago."

"That's so," replied the other, reflectively. "The face of the cliff is as even and smooth as a floor. n.o.body would ever look to find a cl.u.s.ter of cliff dwellers' homes up there; that is, n.o.body but a man like Professor Oswald, who has made a life study of such things, and knows all the indications. But something tells me we're pretty near the end of our long trail. The only question now is, how can we get in touch with the hermit of Echo Cave?"

As night settled down the two boys returned to the fire, still perplexed.

CHAPTER XVIII

FINDING A WAY UP

That night they kept no fire going. Frank seemed to think it best that they remain quiet, so as not to announce their presence in the neighborhood. Though for that matter, it would seem that if any one were perched aloft in one of those slits in the face of the cliff, that represented the windows of the cave dwellings, the entire canyon below must be spread out like a book.

Nothing happened to disturb them. Once Frank thought he heard a distant shout, and this excited his curiosity not a little. According to what Charley Moi said they were now in a neighborhood where ordinary tourists never visited.

He thought of the two sheriffs and the lawless men they were pursuing.

Could it be possible that they were destined to run across those desperate characters sooner or later?

The thought was a disquieting one. It served to make Frank wakeful, and his restlessness was communicated to Bob, although the latter did not know what caused it.

But if the fugitives from justice were loitering around in that particular part of the Grand Canyon, either hiding from the determined sheriffs, or looking for rich quarry, neither they or anyone else disturbed the camp of the saddle boys.

Again, in the morning, Charley Moi lighted a fire, and made ready to prepare a modest breakfast. As Bob had said, their supplies were running low, and unless something happened very soon the Chinaman would have to be dispatched to the nearest store to replenish the food.

Still thinking of the sound he had heard during the night, and which he believed must have been a human voice, rather than the cry of some wild animal, Frank, while they sat cross-legged around the fire, eating the scanty meal, addressed himself to the Chinaman.

"How many times have you come up this far, Charley Moi?" he asked.

The other commenced to figure on his fingers. Having no counting board, used so frequently by his countrymen in laundries, until they get accustomed to the habits of the white man, he took this means of tabulating.

"Allee fingers and this much over," and he held up the first and second fingers of one hand.

"Ten and two, making twelve in all," declared Bob. "Well, you have served the man-with-the-bald-head faithfully and long, Charley."

"And in all these times I suppose you've never known anybody to be around here?" Frank went on.

Charley shook his head in the negative.

"White man, no. Sometime Moqui come 'long, make for stlore down canlon get glub. See same two, thlee times. Charley Moi see old Moqui last night," the Chinaman replied.

"What's that you say?" demanded Frank, hastily. "That you saw a Moqui last night, and after we had come to halt right here?"

"Thatee so," grinned the other, as though pleased to feel that he was able to interest Frank so readily.

"Just when did this happen, Charley Moi?" pursued the other.

"Flank, Blob, down by river, make muchee look-look in gla.s.s," answered Charley.

"Now, what d'ye think of that?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bob, in disgust. "While we were away from camp for ten minutes, something happened. Why couldn't it have come about when we were on deck? There's a fine chance lost to get track of Havasupai; for I reckon you believe the same as I do, Frank, and that the old Moqui whom Charley saw was _our_ Indian?"

"Seems like it, Bob," replied the other, "but don't cry yet. Perhaps it may not be too late to remedy matters. See here, Charley Moi, could you show me just where you saw this Moqui last?"

The yellow-skinned guide smirked, and nodded his head until his pigtail bobbed up and down like a bell rope.

"Easy do," he observed, beginning to get upon his feet.