The location was high, and through a break in the jumble of rocks
the great colored void of desert could be seen rolling away
endlessly to the west. The sun set, and after it had gone down
the golden tips of mountains dulled, their lower shadows creeping
upward.
Jim Lash rolled in his saddle blanket, his feet near the fire, and
went to sleep. Ladd told Gale to do likewise while he kept the
fire up and waited until it was late enough for Jim to undertake
circling round the raiders. When Gale awakened the night was
dark, cold, windy. The stars shone with white brilliance.
Jim was up saddling his horse, and Ladd was talking low.
When Gale rose to accompany them both rangers said he need not go.
But Gale wanted to go because that was the thing Ladd or Jim would
have done.
With Ladd leading, they moved away into the gloom. Advance was
exceedingly slow, careful, silent. Under the walls the blackness
seemed impenetrable. The horse was as cautious as his master.
Ladd did not lose his way, nevertheless he wound between blocks
of stone and clumps of mesquite, and often tried a passage to
abandon it. Finally the trail showed pale in the gloom, and eastern
stars twinkled between the lofty ramparts of the pass.
The advance here was still as stealthily made as before, but not so
difficult or slow. When the dense gloom of the pass lightened,
and there was a wide space of sky and stars overhead, Ladd halted
and stood silent a moment.
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