perhaps not so narrow or winding.

Van had perspired in nervous tension, as the two women rode above the
chasm. Men had gone down here to oblivion. He was easier now, more
careless of himself and horse, less alert for a looseness in the
granite mass, as he turned in his saddle to look backward.

Suddenly, with a horrible sensation in his vitals, he felt his pony
crumpling beneath him, even as he heard Beth sound a cry.

A second later he was going, helplessly, with the air-rush in his ears
and the pony's quiver shivering up his spine. All bottomless space
seemed to open where they dropped. He kicked loose the stirrups, even
as the pony struck upon the first narrow terrace, ten feet down, and
felt the helpless animal turned hoofs and belly upward by the blow.

He had thrust himself free--apart from the horse--but could not cling
to the rotten ledge for more than half a second. Then down once more
he was falling, as before, only a heart-beat later than the pinto.

Out of the lip of the next shelf below the pony's weight tore a jagged
fragment. The animal's neck was broken, and he and the stone-mass
plunged on downward together.

Van half way fell through a stubborn bush--that clung with the
mysterious persistency of life to a handful of soil in a crevice--and
his strong hands closed upon its branches.

He was halted with a jolt. The pony hurtled loosely, grotesquely down
the abyss, bounding from impacts with the terraces, and was presently