A maze of cañons, hopelessly lost in the hill tangle into which they had
plunged, led deviously to a twisting pass, through which they defiled, to
drop into a vista of rolling waves of forest-clad hills. Among these wound
countless hidden gulches, known only to those who rode from out them on
nefarious night errands.
The ranger noted every landmark, and catalogued in his mind's map every
gorge and peak; from what he saw, he guessed much of which he could not be
sure. It would be hard to say when his suspicions first became aroused.
But as they rode, without stopping, through what he knew must be
Powderhorn Pass, as the men about him quietly grouped themselves so as to
cut off any escape he might attempt, as they dropped farther and farther
into the meshes of that forest-crowned net which he knew to be the Roaring
Fork country, he did not need to be told he was in the power of MacQueen's
gang.
Yet he gave no sign of what he knew. As daylight came, so that they could
see each other distinctly, his face showed no shadow of doubt. It was his
cue to be a simple victim of credulity, and he played it to the finish.
Without warning, through a narrow gulch which might have been sought in
vain for ten years by a stranger, they passed into the rim of a
bowl-shaped valley. Timber covered it from edge to edge, but over to the
left a keen eye could see a thinning of the foliage. Toward this they
went, following the sidehill and gradually dipping down through heavy
underbrush. Before him the officer of rangers saw daylight, and presently
a corral, low roofs, and grazing horses.
"Looks like some one lives here," he remarked amiably.
They were already riding into the open. In front of one of the log cabins
the man who had called himself Flatray swung from his saddle.
"Better 'light, lieutenant," he suggested carelessly. "We'll eat breakfast
here."
"Don't care if we do. I could eat a leather mail sack, I'm that hungry,"
the ranger answered, as he, too, descended.
His guide was looking at him with an expression of open, malevolent
triumph. He could scarce keep it back long enough to get the effect he
wanted.
"Yes, we'll eat breakfast here--and dinner, and supper, and breakfast
to-morrow, and then about two more breakfasts."
"I reckon we'll be too busy to sit around here," laughed his prisoner.
The other ignored his comment. "And after that, it ain't likely you'll do
much more eating."