"Not unless some one breaks trail for us. Are you going to try it?"

"Not unless my young friend here gets his nerve up. Want to try it,
Enoch?"

"Try what?" asked Nucky.

"The trip down Bright Angel."

"Not on your life!" cried Nucky.

Both men laughed, the Indian moving off through the snow in the
direction of a dim building among the cedars, while Frank led on to the
corral fence. Fifteen or twenty horses and mules were moving about the
enclosure. Allen crossed swiftly among them, with Nucky following,
apprehensively, close behind him. Frank's horse was in the stable, but
while he seemed to examine the sore spot on the animal's back, Frank's
real attention was riveted on Nucky. The boy was obviously ill at ease
and only half interested in the horse.

"These are the lads that take us down the trail," said Allen finally,
slapping a velvety black mule on the flank.

"We can't trust the horses. A mule knows more in a minute than a horse
knows all his life."

"Will you go with me to take another look at it?" asked Nucky.

An expression of understanding crossed Frank's weather-beaten face.
"Sure I will, boy! Let's walk up the rim a little and see if you can