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That was enough for Slone to know. He would have attempted
the descent if he were sure no other horse but Wildfire had ever gone down
there. But Slone's hair began to rise stiff on his head. A horse like
Wildfire, and mountain sheep and Indian ponies, were all very different from
Nagger. The chances were against Nagger.
"Come on, old boy. If I can do it, you can," he said.
Slone had never seen a trail as perilous as this. He was afraid for his horse.
A slip there meant death. The way Nagger trembled in every muscle showed his
feelings. But he never flinched. He would follow Slone anywhere, providing
Slone rode him or led him. And here, as riding was impossible, Slone went
before. If the horse slipped there would be a double tragedy, for Nagger would
knock his master off the cliff. Slone set his teeth and stepped down. He did
not let Nagger see his fear. He was taking the greatest risk he had ever run.
The break in the wall led to a ledge, and the ledge dropped from step to step,
and these had bare, slippery slants between.


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