The sun was halfway down the west when they came to the end of the oval plain. Here the mountain thrust out a bastion which almost touched the cliff at the right. Into the narrow cleft between the two they filed, and through the semi-gloom of this ravine they marched over a smooth rock floor, their way running always up, although at an easy grade. The sun was behind the westward peaks and dusk was falling when they emerged.
They stood at the edge of a little moor. Upon the left, the arc of the circular mountain resumed its march. The place was, indeed, less a moor than a barren. Its floor was clean white sand. It was dotted with hillocks, mounds flat-topped as though constantly swept by brooms of wind. Upon the slopes of these mounds a tall grass grew sparsely. The hillocks arose about a hundred feet apart, with a singular regularity, like tumuli, graves in a cemetery of giants.
The little barren covered about five acres. Around it clustered the forest. He heard the gurgling of a brook. Sierra led them across the sands until she reached a mound close to the center of the place. "You will camp here," she said. "Water is close by. You may light a fire, and you can sleep without fear. By dawn we must be away."
She left them, and walked with red-and-yellow robe toward one of the neighboring knolls. The white llama followed her. Graydon had expected Soames to halt her, but he did not. Instead, his eyes flashed some message to Dan and Starrett. It seemed to Graydon they were pleased that the girl was not to share their camp, that they welcomed the distance she had put between them. And their manner toward him had changed. They were comradely once more. "Mind takin' the burros over to water?" asked Soames. "We'll get the fire goin', and chow ready."
Graydon nodded and led the animals over to the brook. Taking them back after they had drunk their fill, he looked over at the mound to which Sierra had gone. At its base stood a small square tent, glimmering in the twilight like silk. Tethered close to it was the white llama, placidly munching grass and grain. Its hampers of woven golden withes were still at its sides. Neither Sierra nor the hooded man was visible. They were, he supposed, within the tent.
At his own hillock a fire was crackling and supper being prepared. As he came up, Starrett jerked a thumb at the little tent. "Took it out of the saddle-bags," he said. "Looked like a folded umbrella and went up like one. Who'd ever think to find anything like that in this wilderness!" "Lots of things I think in those saddle-bags we have not yet seen maybe," whispered Dan. "You bet," said Soames. "An' the loot we've already seen enough to set us all up for life. Eh, Graydon?". "She has promised you much more," answered Graydon, troubled by the undercurrent in the New Englander's voice. "Yeah," said Soames, "yeah—I guess so. But—well, let's eat.