toiling on, he at last learned patience. He had seen Wildfire at close
range. That was enough. So he plodded on, once more returning to careful
regard of Nagger. It took an hour of work to reach the point where
Wildfire had disappeared.

A promontory indeed it was, overhanging a valley a thousand feet below.
A white torrent of a stream wound through it. There were lines of green
cottonwoods following the winding course. Then Slone saw Wildfire slowly
crossing the flat toward the stream. He had gone down that cliff, which
to Slone looked perpendicular.

Wildfire appeared to be walking lame. Slone, making sure of this,
suffered a pang. Then, when the significance of such lameness dawned
upon him he whooped his wild joy and waved his hat. The red stallion
must have heard, for he looked up. Then he went on again and waded into
the stream, where he drank long. When he started to cross, the swift
current drove him back in several places. The water wreathed white
around him. But evidently it was not deep, and finally he crossed. From
the other side he looked up again at Nagger and Slone, and, going on, he
soon was out of sight in the cottonwoods.

"How to get down!" muttered Slone.

There was a break in the cliff wall, a bare stone slant where horses had
gone down and come up. That was enough for Slone to know. He would have
attempted the descent if he were sure no other horse but Wildfire had
ever gone down there. But Slone's hair began to rise stiff on his head.
A horse like Wildfire, and mountain sheep and Indian ponies, were all
very different from Nagger. The chances were against Nagger.

"Come on, old boy. If I can do it, you can," he said.

Slone had never seen a trail as perilous as this. He was afraid for his
horse. A slip there meant death. The way Nagger trembled in every muscle
showed his feelings. But he never flinched. He would follow Slone
anywhere, providing Slone rode him or led him. And here, as riding was
impossible, Slone went before. If the horse slipped there would be a
double tragedy, for Nagger would knock his master off the cliff. Slone
set his teeth and stepped down. He did not let Nagger see his fear. He
was taking the greatest risk he had ever run.

The break in the wall led to a ledge, and the ledge dropped from step to
step, and these had bare, slippery slants between. Nagger was splendid
on a bad trail. He had methods peculiar to his huge build and great
weight. He crashed down over the