ube-like form above the top of the opposite side of
the chasm; the latter was of itself much higher than the brink upon
which we stood. Swinging the loop around his head he sent it whistling
across the chasm, where it settled and encircled the projecting stone,
the honda striking the face of the cliff with a sullen thud. The rope
tightened, but when we both threw our weight on our end of the lariat to
try it, the cube-like pinnacle moved on its base.

"I oughter knowed better than to try to lasso a piece of slide rock,"
said Pete in disgusted tones, as he cast the end of the braided rawhide
loose and watched it for a moment dangling down the opposite side of the
canyon.

"Now, Le-loo, we must get over this hole or lose the best lariat in the
Rocky Mountains. We kin look for that boy's trail on this side, for even
if he be an Ecutock, I'll bet my crooker bone 'gainst a lock of his hair
that he can't jump th' hole, an' I'll wager my left ear that he's got a
trail an' a bridge somewhar--'nless he turns bird and flops over things
like this," he added, with a troubled look.

"Pete," said I, "never mind the bird business. I'll admit that there is
a lot of explanation due us before we can rightly judge on the events of
the past few weeks; still I think it may all be explained in a rational
manner; but what if it cannot? We have but one trip to make through this
world, and the more we see the more we will know at the end of the
journey. I am as curious as a prong-horned antelope when there is a
mystery, so put your nose to the ground, my good friend, and find the
spot where this Mr. Werwolf, witch, or bear flies the canyon, and maybe,
like the husband of 'The Witch of Fife,' we may find the 'black crook
shell,' and with its aid fly out of this 'lum."

"I believe your judication is sound, Le-loo; stay where you be an' if he
hain't a witch I'll bet my front tooth agin the string of his moccasin
that I'll find the bridge, and I'll swear by my grandmother's hind leg
that that little imp will pay for our sheep yit."

As Pete finished these remarks there was a sudden and astonishing change
in his appearance. His head fell forward, his shoulders drooped, his
back bowed and his knee bent. It was no longer the upright statuesque
Pete the Mountaineer, but Peter the Trailer, all of whose faculties were
concentrated upon the ground. With a swinging gait the human bloodhound
traveled swiftly and silently along the edge of the crevasse,