But, in the present instance, there seemed to be no other means of getting
along, and thus, in one sense, they were forced into it. The
probabilities, however, were that they would soon emerge into safer
territory, where it would be possible to take some precautions against
pursuers.

For some time the two galloped along without speaking. The hoofs of their
mustangs rang upon the rocks, and rattled over the gravel, and, in the
still night, could have been heard a long distance away. While the
Irishman kept as good a lookout ahead as possible, Fred Munson did his
best to guard their rear. He kept continually glancing over his shoulder
in the expectation of seeing some of their enemies, but nothing of the
kind occurred, and before he anticipated it, they emerged into what seemed
a deep valley, with high rocks upon both sides. Mickey drew up, and
allowed his young friend to move alongside.

"Do ye mind ever having seen this place before?" he asked.

"I don't remember anything about this country, and all I ask is that we
may get out of it as soon as possible."

"But don't ye mind ever having been here before?"

Thus questioned, Fred scanned his surroundings as best he could, but there
was nothing that he could identify, and he so said, adding:

"I'm sure I've never been here before."

"And I'm sure ye have. This is the path that Lone Wolf come along, and
that ye was hunting for when ye got lost, and fell into the basement story