can't see what's below it," he said. "No
use for signals. I'll go down the length of the rope and trust to find a
footing. I can't be hauled up."

They all conceded this silently.

Then Neale sat down, let his legs dangle over the wall, firmly grasped
his instrument, and said to the troopers who held the rope, "All right!"

They lowered him foot by foot.

It was windy and the dust blew up from under the wall. Black canon
swifts, like swallows, darted out with rustling wings, uttering
frightened twitterings. The engineers leaned over, watching Neale's
progress. Larry King did not look over the precipice. He watched the
slowly slipping rope as knot by knot it passed over. It fascinated him.

"He's reached the bulge of rock," called Baxter, craning his neck.

"There, he's down--out of sight!" exclaimed Henney.

Casey, the flagman, leaned farther out than any other. "Phwat a dom'
sthrange way to build a railroad, I sez," he remarked.

The gorge lay asleep in the westering sun, silent, full of blue haze.
Seen from this height, far above the break where the engineers had first
halted, it had the dignity and dimensions of a canon. Its walls had
begun to change color in the sunset light.

Foot by foot the soldiers let the rope slip, until probably two hundred
had been let out, and there were scarcely a hundred feet left. By this
time all that part of the cable which had been made of lassoes had
passed over; the remainder consisted of pieces of worn and knotted and
frayed rope, at which the engineers began to gaze fearfully.

"I don't like this," said Henney, nervously. "Neale surely ought to have
found a ledge or bench or slope by now."

Instinctively the soldiers held back, reluctantly yielding inches where
before they had slacked away feet. But intent as was their gaze, it
could not rival that of the cowboy.

"Hold!" he yelled, suddenly pointing to where the strained rope curved
over the edge of the wall.

The troopers held hard. The rope ceased to pay out. The strain seemed to
increase. Larry King pointed with a lean hand.

"It's a-goin' to break!"

His voice, hoarse and swift, checked the forward movement of the
engineers. He plunged to his knees before the rope and reached
clutchingly, as if he wanted to grasp it, yet dared not.

"Ropes was my job! Old an' rotten! It's breakin'!"

Even as he spoke the rope snapped. The troopers, thrown off their
balance, fell backward. Baxter groaned; Boone and Henney c