ide of the trail, fearing the horses might slip. The snow
held firmly at first and Slone had no trouble. The gap in the rim-rock
widened to a slope thickly grown over with cedars and pinyons and
manzanita. This growth made the descent more laborious, yet afforded
means at least for Slone to go down with less danger. There was no
stopping. Once started, the horses had to keep on. Slone saw the
impossibility of ever climbing out while that snow was there. The trail
zigzagged down and down. Very soon the yellow wall hung tremendously
over him, straight up. The snow became thinner and softer. The horses
began to slip. They slid on their haunches. Fortunately the slope grew
less steep, and Slone could see below where it reached out to
comparatively level ground. Still, a mishap might yet occur. Slone kept
as close to Nagger as possible, helping him whenever he could do it.
The mustang slipped, rolled over, and then slipped past Slone, went
down the slope to bring up in a cedar. Slone worked down to him and
extricated him. Then the huge Nagger began to slide. Snow and loose
rock slid with him, and so did Slone. The little avalanche stopped of
its own accord, and then Slone dragged Nagger on down and down,
presently to come to the end of the steep descent. Slone looked up to
see that he had made short work of a thousand-foot slope. Here cedars
and pinyons grew thickly enough to make a forest. The snow thinned out
to patches, and then failed. But the going remained bad for a while as
the horses sank deep in a soft red earth. This eventually grew more
solid and finally dry. Slone worked out of the cedars to what appeared
a grassy plateau inclosed by the great green-and-white slope with its
yellow wall over hanging, and distant mesas and cliffs. Here his view
was restricted. He was down on the first bench of the great canyon. And
there was the deer trail, a well-worn path keeping to the edge of the
slope. Slone came to a deep cut in the earth, and the trail headed it,
where it began at the last descent of the slope. It was the source of a
canyon. He could look down to see the bare, worn rock, and a hundred
yards from where he stood the earth was washed from its rims and it
began to show depth and something of that ragged outline which told of
violence of flood. The trail headed many canyons like this, all running
down across this bench, disappearing, dropping invisibly. The trail
swung to the left under the great slope, and then pr