ack, an abyss that might well have been
bottomless for aught that could be seen from above. To the left the
crown of the hill rose sheer and barren, and only at its foot grew the
vegetation that so perilously narrowed the track. Then, ahead, where
the trail vanished, a misty hollow, dark and deep--the narrowing walls
of a black canyon.

The blue eyes of the teamster were troubled. Was there ever such a
country for white man to travel? His horses were jaded. Their lean
sides were tuckered. Gray streaks of sweat scored them from shoulder
to flank.

The man lolled heavily in his driving seat in the manner of the
prairie teamster. He knew there was trouble ahead, but it was
practically all he did know of the journey before him.

As the cart topped the rise he bestirred himself. His whip flicked the
air without touching the horses, and he chirrupped encouragingly. The
weary but willing creatures raised their drooping heads, their ribs
expanded as they drew their "tugs" taut, and, at a slow, shuffling
trot, they began the descent.

A voice from behind caused the man to glance swiftly over his
shoulder.

"It's no use asking you where we are now, I suppose?" it said in a
peevish tone.

But the teamster's mood was its match.

"Not a heap, I guess, ma'm," he retorted, and gave up his attention to
avoiding the precipice on his right.

"How far is the place supposed to be?"

The woman's unease was very evident. Her eyes were upon the darkening
walls of the canyon toward which they were traveling.

"Eighty miles from Crowsfoot. That's how the boss said, anyways."

"How far have we come now?"

The man laughed. There seemed to be something humorous in his
passenger's inquiries.

"Crowsfoot to Snarth's farm, thirty-five miles, good. Snarth's to
Rattler Head, thirty. Sixty-five. Fifteen into this precious camp on
Yellow Creek. Guess we bin comin' along good since sun-up, an' now
it's noon. Countin' our stop fer breakfast we ought to make thirty odd
miles. Guess we come a good hundred." He laughed again.

The woman gave an exclamation of impatience and vexation.

"I think your employer ought to be ashamed of himself sending you to
do the journey. You don't know where you are, or what direction we're
going in. The horses are nearly foundered, and we may be miles and
miles from our destination. What are you going to do?"

"Ke'p goin' jest as long as the hosses ken ke'p foot to the ground.
Guess we'll ease 'em at the b