an
open break on the far side could he see what kind of country lay beyond.

"Wal, there she is, my wild hoss valley," said Blinky, who sat his
horse alongside of Pan. "An' by golly, thet's the name for her--Wild
Hoss Valley. Hey, pard?"

Pan nodded his acquiescence. In truth he had been rendered quite
speechless by the wildness and beauty of the scene below and beyond
him. A valley that had some of the characteristics of a canyon yawned
beneath, so deep and wide that it appeared like a blue lake, so long
that he could only see the north end, which notched under a rugged
mountain slope, green and black and golden and white according to the
successive steps toward the heights.

The height upon which he stood was the last of the ridges, for the
elevation that lay directly across was a noble range of foothills,
timbered, canyoned, apparently insurmountable for horses. Gray cliffs
stood out of the green, crags of yellow rock mounted like castles.

But it was the blue floor of the valley that longest held Pan's
enraptured gaze. It looked level, though to an experienced eye that
was deceitful. Grass and sage! What were the innumerable colored
rocks or bushes or dots that covered the whole floor of the valley?
Pan wondered. Then he did not need to ask. They were wild horses!

"Aw, Blink! This'll be hard to leave!" he expostulated, as if his
friend were to blame for this unexpected and bewildering spectacle.

"You bet your sweet life it will," agreed Blinky. "But we cain't hang
up heah, moon eyed an' ravin'. We're holdin' up the outfit an' it's a
long way down to water."

"Have you picked out a place where we'll be away--out of sight?"
queried Pan quickly.

"Wal, pard, I'm no wild hoss wrangler like you say you are, but I've
got hoss sense," drawled Blinky, as he urged his animal back into the
yellow trail.

Pan dismounted to walk, a habit he had always conformed to on steep
trails, when his horse needed freeing of a burden, and his own legs
were the better for action. At times he got a glimpse of the valley
through a hole in the trees, but for the most part he could not see
downward at all. Then he gazed across the open gulf to the mountains.
These were not like the Rockies he knew so well by sight, the great
white-crowned sky-piercing peaks of Montana. These belonged more to
the desert, were wilder, with more color, not so lofty, and as ragged
as jagged rock and fringed timber could make them. Grad