The abundant grass left no trace of his trail.

Short work he made of the distance to the circle of canyons.

He doubted that he would ever see it again; he knew he never wanted to; yet he looked at the red corners and towers with the eyes of a rider picturing landmarks never to be forgotten.
Here he spent a panting moment in a slow-circling gaze of the sage-oval and the gaps between the bluffs.

Nothing stirred except the gentle wave of the tips of the brush.

Then he pressed on past the mouths of several canyons and over ground new to him, now close under the eastern wall.
This latter part proved to be easy traveling, well screened from possible observation from the north and west, and he soon covered it and felt safer in the deepening shade of his own canyon.