as we went. There was no danger of being overheard on that bench. As a
matter of fact, Hicks and Gregory didn't know we were up there; at
least, they were not supposed to know. MacRae had made a practice of
leaving one or the other in camp, in case some prowling Indians should
spy our horses and attempt to run them off. That afternoon Hicks had
been on guard. When Mac started Gregory back he told him that we would
be along presently, then sat himself down on a rock and watched the
breed. When he was far enough up the flat to lose track of our movements
we dropped into a convenient washout and sneaked along it to the foot of
the bank, where a jutting point of rock hid sight of us climbing the
hill.

We had no thought of spying on them, at first--it was simply to be rid
of their onerous presence for a while, and getting on the bench was an
afterthought. But as we came opposite camp, MacRae took a notion to look
down and see what they were about. At a point which overlooked the
bottom some two hundred yards from the east end of the Stone, we got
down on our stomachs and wriggled carefully to the naked rim of the
cliff. For some time we laid there, peering down at the men below. Hicks
was puttering around the fire, evidently cooking supper, and Gregory was
moving the picket rope of his horse to fresh grass. There was nothing
out of the ordinary to be seen, and I drew back. But MacRae still kept
his place. When he did back away from the edge, he had the look of a man
who has made some important discovery.

"On my soul, I believe I've found it," he calmly announced.

"What!"

"I believe I have," he repeated, a trace of exultation in his tone. "At