him. He found, presently, that the
water was thick and made him tired, so it was necessary to grasp a
stirrup and be towed. The river appeared only a few hundred feet wide,
but probably it was wider than it looked. Nagger labored heavily near
the opposite shore; still, he landed safely upon a rocky bank. There
were patches of sand in which Wildfire's tracks showed so fresh that
the water had not yet dried out of them.

Slone rested his horse before attempting to climb out of that split in
the rock. However, Wildfire had found an easy ascent. On this side of
the canyon the bare rock did not predominate. A clear trail led up a
dusty, gravelly slope, upon which scant greasewood and cactus appeared.
Half an hour's climbing brought Slone to where he could see that he was
entering a vast valley, sloping up and narrowing to a notch in the dark
cliffs, above which towered the great red wall and about that the
slopes of cedar and the yellow rim-rock.

And scarcely a mile distant, bright in the westering sunlight, shone
the red stallion, moving slowly.

Slone pressed on steadily. Just before dark he came to an ideal spot to
camp. The valley had closed up, so that the lofty walls cast shadows
that met. A clump of cottonwoods surrounding a spring, abundance of
rich grass, willows and flowers lining the banks, formed an oasis in
the bare valley. Slone was tired out from the day of ceaseless toil
down and up, and he could scarcely keep his eyes open. But he tried to
stay awake. The dead silence of the valley, the dry fragrance, the
dreaming walls, the advent of night low down, when up on the ramparts
the last red rays of the sun lingered, the strange loneliness--these
were sweet and comforting to him.

And that night's sleep was as a moment. He opened his eyes to see the
crags and towers and peaks and domes, and the lofty walls of that vast,
broken chaos of canyons across the river. They were now emerging from
the misty gray of dawn, growing pink and lilac and purple under the
rising sun.

He arose and set about his few tasks, which, being soon finished,
allowed him an early start.

Wildfire had grazed along no more than a mile in the lead. Slone looked
eagerly up the narrowing canyon, but he was not rewarded by a sight of
the stallion. As he progressed up a gradually ascending trail he became
aware of the fact that the notch he had long looked up to was where the
great red walls closed in and almost met. And the trail zigzagg