Murphy, after satisfying his appetite, rested flat upon his back, one arm flung over his eyes to protect them from the sun.

For a considerable time Hampton supposed him asleep, until he accidentally caught the stealthy glance which followed his slightest movement, and instantly realized that the old weasel was alert.

Murphy had been beaten, yet evidently remained unconquered, biding his chance with savage stoicism, and the other watched him warily even while seeming to occupy himself with the field-glass.
At last they saddled up, and, at first leading their horses, passed down the _coulee_ into the more precipitous depths of the narrow canyon.

This proved hardly more than a gash cut through the rolling prairie, rock strewn, holding an insignificant stream of brackish water, yet was an ideal hiding-place, having ample room for easy passage between the rock walls.

The men mounted, and Hampton, with a wave of his hand, bade the old scout assume the lead.
Their early advance was slow and cautious, as they never felt certain what hidden enemies might lurk behind the sharp corners of the winding defile, and they kept vigilant eyes upon the serrated sky-line.