Chesney drew up to study the country.  Behind them lay the gigantic wall of cliffs through which they had ridden the evening before.  To the north the ridge stretched away as far as the eye could follow, and on the east of it, where they now were, the rugged country was dotted with cedar.  To the south, beyond more cedar breaks, lay miles of sand dunes.

"You suppose he could have doubled back and gone north along the cliffs?" Short asked.

"Not unless he knows another way through that wall," Hardin replied; "and if he did he left no tracks.  I scouted for sign first thing after daybreak."

Neill waited, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun.  He had slept badly, even tired as he was, for he had too few blankets for the cold night, and he kept worrying about his wife.

This was lonesome country.  Since daybreak they had seen nothing that lived except a lone buzzard, prospecting them for future attention.

Kimmel drew up beside Neill and dug into his pocket for his plug tobacco, sized it up, and bit off a small chew.  "Beats me," he said, "what a man would want to live in this country for.  Especially if he's got a woman."

"She'll be Navajo," Short speculated.  "He's got him a squaw."

To the frontier way of thinking, nobody was lower than a squawman... and such men were not to be trusted.  Not that anybody would trust a back-shooter anyway.

Their suspicions had mounted as they rode north.  They looked narrowly at the hills.  It seemed unlikely that an honest man would hide out so far from other people.

"He might be a Mormon," McAlpin suggested.  "Looks like he's ridin' right into Utah."

"If he is, we might as well turn ourselves right around and head for home.  We'll be running right into a war.  Anyway, ain't there some Mormon or other runnin' Lee's Ferry?"

"Was," Hardin agreed, "but I think he left the country.  Too lonesome for him."

They waited upon the decision that would be made by Hardin and Chesney.  Finally Hardin spoke.  "Bill, we've got to gamble.  We've got small chance to pick up that man's trail.  I mean, he's like an Indian, and, he knows this country.  It might take us days to find it, even if we ever did.  If he headed south into the sand dunes, we've lost him.  There's stretches down there where the sand never stops moving, and the past couple of days there's been a wind - not much, but enough to cover any tracks."

"How do you mean... gamble?"

"We've got to guess where he's headed for, and light out and run, try to beat him to it."

"And if we guess wrong?"

"Then we've lost him.  We'll have to go back home and wait for him."