Since he had no idea how far the path led, he stopped to listen when he heard the sound of gushing water. It came from a source about fifty feet to his right, and he realized then that he was even with the spot where the stream emerged from under the ground. It was the sound of the water splashing on the rocky shelf at the foot of the cliff. The thought occurred to him that he might be in one hell of a spot if he suddenly met the four outlaws coming down from the cabin. With that in mind, he carried his rifle in his right hand, ready to drop Rascal’s reins from his left, should the meeting occur. Aware that the path was angling back toward the stream now, he continued for another thirty yards when he caught a glimpse of the cabin through the trees ahead. He stopped immediately, lest they might hear him climbing up the trail. He dropped Rascal’s reins to the ground and gave the buckskin a few reassuring pats to keep him quiet. Then he continued the climb toward the cabin, moving carefully in case there was a surprise encounter, hoping, if there were one, they might be more surprised than he.

So far, so good, he thought when there were no inquisitive whinnies from any horses above him. Able to see most of the cabin now, he paused to consider what his situation really was. There was no apparent activity outside the rough log cabin and no sign of any horses, but from where he stood, he couldn’t see what was behind the cabin. There was no smoke coming from the chimney, and as chilly as it was, there should have been. To make sure they were all inside, he thought it best to leave the path and make his way a little higher up, so he could see the back of the cabin. After climbing a little farther up the mountain, he moved in a little closer, where he could see the stream running beside the cabin to form a little pool just before it went underground. He could also see there was no one there, since there were no horses anywhere about.