She had spoken of being deceived into thinking the place was the Sawtooth ranch until she had come into it and found it "just rocks." Then, he reasoned, the storm had broken, and her fright had held her there.

When daylight came she had either forgotten the bag or had left it deliberately.
At Rock City, then, Lone stopped to examine the base of every rock, even riding around those nearest the road.

The girl, he guessed shrewdly, had not wandered off the main highway, else she would not have been able to find it again.

Rock City was confusing unless one was perfectly familiar with its curious, winding lanes.
It was when he was riding slowly around the boulder marked "Palace Hotel, Rates Reasnible," that he came upon the place where a horse had stood, on the side best sheltered from the storm.

Deep hoof marks closely overlapping, an over-turned stone here and there gave proof enough, and the rain-beaten soil that blurred the hoofprints farthest from the rock told him more.