encounter in the regions contiguous to the Black Hills.

Below him yawned an abrupt channel, a score or more of feet in depth,
at the bottom of which was a dense chaparral thicket. The little
valley thus nestled in the earth was about forty rods in width, and
one would never have dreamed it existed, unless they chanced to ride
to the brink, above.

Fearless Frank took in the situation at a glance, and not hearing the
cries, he rightly conjectured that the one in distress had again
become exhausted. That that person was in the thicket below seemed
more than probable, and he immediately resolved to descend in search.
Slipping from his saddle, he stepped forward to the very edge of the
precipice and looked over. The next second the ground crumbled beneath
his feet, and he was precipitated headlong into the valley.
Fortunately he received no serious injuries, and in a moment was on
his feet again, all right.

"A miss is as good as a mile," he muttered, brushing the dirt from his
clothing. "Now, then, we will find out the secret of the racket in
this thicket."

Glancing up to the brink above to see that his horse was standing
quietly, he parted the shrubbery, and entered the thicket.

It required considerable pushing and tugging to get through the dense
undergrowth, but at last his efforts were rewarded, and he stood in a
small break or glade.

Stood there, to behold a sight that made the blood boil in his veins.