d
the river and shore. The water ran slow, heavily, in sluggish eddies.
From far up the canyon came the roar of a rapid, and from below the roar
of another, heavier and closer. The river appeared tremendous, in ways
Slone felt rather than realized, yet it was not swift. Studying the
black, rough wall of rock above him, he saw marks where the river had
been sixty feet higher than where he stood on the sand. It was low,
then. How lucky for him that he had gotten there before flood season! He
believed Wildfire had crossed easily, and he knew Nagger could make it.
Then he piled and tied his supplies and weapons high on the saddle, to
keep them dry, and looked for a place to take to the water.

Wildfire had sunk deep before reaching the edge. Manifestly he had
lunged the last few feet. Slone found a better place, and waded in,
urging Nagger. The big horse plunged, almost going under, and began to
swim. Slone kept upstream beside 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,