And that was not all; she had looked into Chip's face, last night--and she had gone home and cried until she could cry no more, just with the pity of it.
She left the more open valley and rode down a long, twisting canyon that was lined with cliffs so that it was impossible to climb out with a horse.

She was sure she could not get lost or turned around, in a place like that, and it seemed to her as hopeful a place to search as any.
When you came to that, they all had to ride at random and trust to luck, for there was not the faintest clue to guide them.

So Miss Allen considered that she could do no better than search all the patches of brush in the canyon, and keep on going.
The canyon ended abruptly in a little flat, which she crossed.

She had not seen the tracks of any horse going down, but when she was almost across the flat she discovered tracks of cattle, and now and then the print of a shod hoof.

Miss Allen began to pride herself on her astuteness in reading these signs.