Wildfire had left a broad, clear-swept mark at that
place, and red hairs on some of the sharp points. He had slid down. Below was
an offset that fortunately prevented further sliding, Slone started to walk
down this place, but when Nagger began to slide Slone had to let go the bridle
and jump. Both he and the horse landed safely. Luck was with them. And they
went on, down and down, to reach the base of the great wall, scraped and
exhausted, wet with sweat, but unhurt. As Slone gazed upward he felt the
impossibility of believing what he knew to be true. He hugged and petted the
horse. Then he led on to the roaring stream.
It was green water white with foam. Slone waded in and found the water cool
and shallow and very swift. He had to hold to Nagger to keep from being swept
downstream. They crossed in safety. There in the sand showed Wildfire's
tracks. And here were signs of another Indian camp, half a year old.
The shade of the cottonwoods was pleasant. Slone found this valley
oppressively hot. There was no wind and the sand blistered his feet through
his boots.
Pages:
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137