Nothing more was said and they waited the hours out.  The men changed jobs from time to time, and there was much low-voiced discussion among them.  As the night drew on, it became rapidly colder.  At dusk Benny came in from watching and the three ate, talked longer, then rolled up in their blankets and went to sleep.

The Cactus Kid shivered in the cold, crisp air, his body held immobile by his bonds.  He tried tensing groups of muscles to keep his circulation alive and ward off the worst of the cold, and after a while he tried his bonds.  The four inches of chest expansion had given him a little slack and he could turn his body on the dead tree.  Yet for all his straining he could do little with the rawhide thongs that bound his hands behind him.

Morning dawned cold and crisp and Benny walked over to him and untied him.  "Set and eat," he said briefly.

For an hour they questioned him about the route south, and his answers evidently satisfied them.  Much of this country was as strange to him as to them, but he did know that trail out, and he was sure that once they were traveling, his chance would come.  Anyway, it was a reprieve, if only for a few days.

After having him collect more wood while watched by Joe with a rifle, they tied him again, and this time left him sitting on the ground.  This time, too, he held his breath and bulged his muscles while straining for slack.  And again he got it, although not so much as before.

Red was the first guard and he walked away from camp right away.  Benny returned to the Kid and plied him with questions about the trail.  He seemed disturbed by the trip, but why, the Cactus Kid could not gather.

Then, almost at noon, Red came in leading the horses.  "We'll go," he said.  "Nobody's coming.  Far's a man can see, that trail's empty.  We've lost 'em, but to go out thataway would be asking for trouble.  The Kid can guide us over this south trail."

Although his weapons were carried by Joe Herring, the Cactus Kid was left unbound.  At once, he headed off south through the mountains with Red beside him and the other Herrings immediately behind.  Leaving the hills, they descended to Sage Plain, skirted Elk Ridge and the Bear's Ears, dropped into Cottonwood Wash and proceeded along it and then out into a fantastic world of eerie towers and spires like the images of cathedrals cast in stone.

At dark, he brought them up to a spring, a small trickle of water running from a fracture in the rock into a small basin, which overflowed in turn to be lost in the sand.  Nearby were several windbreaks made by Indians from pine boughs or slabs of rock.  There was no evidence of human life other than that, and no sign that anybody had been near in months.

Once, on the rim of a canyon, Red Herring drew up sharply.