"I fainted, didn't I?" he asked.

Allen nodded, and something in the twist of the man's lips maddened
Nucky. He burst forth wildly:

"You think I'm a blank blank sissy! Well, maybe I am. But if New York
couldn't scare me, this blank blank hole out here in this blank blank
jumping off place can't. I'm going on down this trail and if I fall
and get killed, it's up to you and Mr. Seaton."

"Good work, New York!" responded Allen briefly. He edged his way
carefully back to his mule and the cavalcade moved onward. Perhaps
five minutes afterward, as they left the snow line, the guide looked
back. Nucky was huddled in the saddle, his eyes closed tight, but his
thin lips were drawn in a line that caused Allen to change his purpose.
He did not speak as he had planned, but led the way on for a long half
hour, in silence, his eyes thoughtful.

But Nucky did not keep his eyes closed long. The pull of horror, of
mystery, of grandeur was too great. And after the avalanche, his
confidence in Spoons was established. He was little more than a child
and under his bravado and his watchfulness there was a child's
recklessness. If he were to fall, at least he must see whither he was
to fall. He forced himself to look from time to time into the depths
below. The trail dropped steadily, while higher and higher soared
canyon wall and mountain peak. It was still early when the trail met
the plateau on which lie the Indian gardens.

Frank's mule suddenly quickened his stride as did Spoons. But Nucky,
although he was weary and saddle sore had no intention of crying a