nose against a black outcropping of stone in the wall. Then he gave a
satisfied grunt.

"Come here, Jack, and take a sniff."

Jack knelt obediently and cried excitedly:

"It smells of smoke, by Jove! Don't it, John, old scout!"

"They knew smoke wouldn't show against a black outcrop, but they didn't
bank on my nose!" said Billy complacently. "Come ahead, boys."

A short distance from the spring they found a trail which led back up
the mountain, and as dusk came on they followed its dizzy turns until
darkness forced them to halt and wait until the moon rose. By its
light they moved up into a piñon forest.

"Let's wait here until daylight," suggested Jack. "It's a good place
for a camp."

"No, it's too near the ledge," objected Billy. "Of course we are
working on faith mostly. I'm no Sherlock Holmes. We'll keep to the
backbone of this range for a while. It's the wildest spot in New
Mexico. Kut-le will avoid the railroad over by the next range."

So Billy led his little band steadfastly southward. At dawn they met a
Mexican shepherd herding his sheep in a grassy cañon. Jack Newman
called to him eagerly and the Mexican as eagerly answered. A visitor
was worth a month's pay to the lonely fellow. The red of dawn was
painting the fleecy backs of his charges as the tired Americans rode