elibly every word of that incident; but innate
delicacy prevents the repetition of all save the old warrior's
concluding remarks: "! ! ! place I was ever in! Tarantulas by the
million--centipedes, scorpions, bats! Rattlesnakes, too, I'll swear.
Look out, Wallace! there, under your blanket!"

From the shuffling sounds which wafted sweetly into my bed, I gathered
that my long friend from California must have gone through motions
creditable to a contortionist. An ensuing explosion from Jones
proclaimed to the listening world that Wallace had thrown a tarantula
upon him. Further fearful language suggested the thought that Colonel
Jones had passed on the inquisitive spider to Frank. The reception
accorded the unfortunate tarantula, no doubt scared out of its wits,
began with a wild yell from Frank and ended in pandemonium.

While the confusion kept up, with whacks and blows and threshing about,
with language such as never before had disgraced a group of old
campers, I choked with rapture, and reveled in the sweetness of revenge.

When quiet reigned once more in the black and white canyon, only one
sleeper lay on the moon-silvered sand of the cave.

At dawn, when I opened sleepy eyes, Frank, Slim, Stewart and Lawson had
departed, as pre-arranged, with the outfit, leaving the horses
belonging to us and rations for the day. Wallace and I wanted to climb
the divide at the break, and go home by way of Snake Gulch, and the
Colonel acquiesced with the remark that his sixty-three years had
taught him there was much to see in the world. Coming to undertake it,
we found the climb--except for a slide of weathered rock--no great
task, and we accomplished it in half an hour, with breath to spare and
no mishap to horses.

But descending into Snake Gulch, which was only a mile across the
sparsely cedared ridge, proved to be tedious labor. By virtue of
Satan's patience and skill, I forged ahead; which advantage, however,
meant more risk for me because of the stones set in motion above. They
rolled and bumped and cut into me, and I sustained many a bruise trying
to protect the sinewy slender legs of my horse. The descent ended
without serious mishap.

Snake Gulch had a character and sublimity which cast Nail Canyon into
the obscurity of forgetfulness. The great contrast lay in the diversity
of structure. The rock was bright red, with parapet of yellow, that
leaned, heaved, bulged outward. These emblazoned cliff walls, two
thousand fee