Mickey promised not to be absent long, and then started in search of
provender. Game was abundant in that part of the world, and he was
confident that much time would not be required to bring down some
toothsome dainty.

"He has an uncomfortable way of running off and leaving a fellow alone,"
muttered Fred, as he watched the vanishing figure of his friend. "I
haven't anything but my revolver, and only two shots left in that, and it
seems to me that this is about the worst place we could stop."

The point where they camped was in the pass, which, at that point, widened
considerably. The right wall curved far inward in a semi-circular shape,
the opposite remaining the same, the gorge looking as if an immense slice
had been scooped out of its northern boundary. The rocks on every hand
ranged from a dozen to a hundred feet in height, with numerous openings,
through which a horseman could easily pick his way. The tops were covered
with vegetation, the greater portion of which was vigorous and dense.

Fred found himself standing in an immense amphitheatre, as one can imagine
how the gladiators of Rome stood in the Coliseum, when an audience of over
a hundred thousand were seated and looking down upon them. He could not
but note the helpless situation a party of men would be in if caught where
he was.

"If a company of United States Cavalry should camp here, and the Indians
opened on them from the rocks above, they would have to stand and be shot
down, one after another, or else run the gauntlet and be picked off in the
same way."