its head high above the silent plains; and to the north it stretched in
a long gentle slope back to a lateral rim along the landscape. The trail
crept close about its base, as if it would cling lovingly to this one
shadow-making thing amid all the open, blaring, sun-bound miles
stretching out on either side of it.

As Beverly and I were riding in front of Mat's wagon, of which we had
elected ourselves the special guardians, Rex Krane came up alongside
Bill Banney's team in front of us. The young men were no such
hard-and-fast friends as Beverly and I. For some reason they had little
to say to each other.

"Is that what you call Pike's Peak, Bill?" Rex asked.

"No, the mountains are a month away. That's Pawnee Rock, and I'll
breathe a lot freer when we get out of sight of that infernal thing,"
Bill replied.

"What's its offense?" Rex inquired.

"It's the peak of perdition, the bottomless pit turned inside out," Bill
declared.

"I don't see the excuse for a rock sittin' out here, sayin' nothin',
bein' called all manner of unpleasant names," the young Bostonian
insisted.

"Well, I reckon you'd find one mighty quick if you ever heard the
soldiers at Fort Leavenworth talk about it once. All the plainsmen dread
it. Jondo says more men have been killed right around this old stone