The snow held firmly at
first and Slone had no trouble. The gap in the rim-rock widened to a slope
thickly grown over with cedars and pinyons and manzanita. This growth made the
descent more laborious, yet afforded means at least for Slone to go down with
less danger. There was no stopping. Once started, the horses had to keep on.
Slone saw the impossibility of ever climbing out while that snow was there.
The trail zigzagged down and down. Very soon the yellow wall hung tremendously
over him, straight up. The snow became thinner and softer. The horses began to
slip. They slid on their haunches. Fortunately the slope grew less steep, and
Slone could see below where it reached out to comparatively level ground.
Still, a mishap might yet occur. Slone kept as close to Nagger as possible,
helping him whenever he could do it. The mustang slipped, rolled over, and
then slipped past Slone, went down the slope to bring up in a cedar. Slone
worked down to him and extricated him. Then the huge Nagger began to slide.
Snow and loose rock slid with him, and so did Slone.
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