"
Once more turning to the left Hare ran his eye over the Vermillion
Cliffs, and the strip of red sand shining under them, and so calculating
his bearings he headed due north for Silver Cup. What with the snow and
the soggy ground the first mile was hard going for Hare, and Silvermane
often sank deep. Once off the level spur of the mountain they made
better time, for the snow thinned out on the slope and gradually gave way
to the brown dry aisles of the forest. Hare mounted in front of Mescal,
and put the stallion to an easy trot; after two hours of riding they
struck a bridle-trail which Hare recognized as one leading down to the
spring. In another hour they reached the steep slope of Coconina, and
saw the familiar red wall across the valley, and caught glimpses of gray
sage patches down through the pines.
"I smell smoke," said Hare.
"The boys must be at the spring," rejoined Mescal.
"Maybe. I want to be sure who's there. We'll leave the trail and slip
down through the woods to the left. I wish we could get down on the home
side of the spring. But we can't; we've got to pass it."
With many a pause to peer through openings in the pines Hare traversed a
diagonal course down the slope, crossed the line of cedars, and reached
the edge of the valley a mile or more above Silver Cup.
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