Nucky was sitting very straight with his thin chest up, and he managed
to maintain this posture as the trail turned down over the rim. Then
he grasped the pommel in both hands.

It was a wonderful trail, carved with infinite patience and ingenuity
out of the canyon wall. To Allen it was as safe and easy as a flight
of stairs. Nucky, trembling in the saddle would have felt quite as
comfortable standing on the topmost window ledge of the Flat Iron
building, in New York. And, to Nucky, there was no trail! Only a
narrow, corkscrew shelf, deep banked with snow into which the mules set
their small feet gingerly. For many minutes, the boy saw only this
trackless ledge, and the sickening blue depths below.

"I can never stand it!" he muttered. "I can never stand it! If this
mule makes just one mis-step, I'm dead." He felt a little nauseated.
"I can never stand it! 'Twould have been better if I'd just let 'em
tease me. Hey, Frank!"

The guide looked back. The red spots were gone from Nucky's cheeks now.

"We got to go back! I can't get away with it!" cried the boy.

"It's impossible to turn here, Enoch! Look up, man! Look up! And
just trust old Spoons! Are you cold? It was only eight above zero,
when we left the top. But the snow'll disappear as we go down and when
we reach the river it'll be summer. See that lone pine up on the rim
to your right? They say an Indian girl jumped from the top of that
because she bore a cross-eyed baby. Look up, Enoch, as we round this
curve and see that streak of red in the wall. An Indian giant bled to
death on the rim and his blood seeped through the solid rock to this