For the first time in years he found himself doubting his rider's skill in finding tracks, and his memory of what he had actually seen.

In his anxiety to keep under cover he must have lost himself in this offshoot of Deception Pass, and thereby in some unaccountable manner, missed the canyon with the trails.

There was nothing else for him to think.

Rustlers could not fly, nor cattle jump down thousand-foot precipices.

He was only proving what the sage-riders had long said of this labyrinthine system of deceitful canyons and valleys--trails led down into Deception Pass, but no rider had ever followed them.
On a sudden he heard above the soft roar of the waterfall an unusual sound that he could not define.