The roof of the shack had fallen in, and the floor was six inches
deep in adobe mud.

We did not dismount--that would have wet our saddles--but sat on
our horses taking in the details. Finally Uncle Jim came to the
front with a suggestion.

"I know of a cave," said he, "close under a butte. It's a big
cave, but it has such a steep floor that I'm not sure as we could
stay in it; and it's back the other side of that ridge."

"I don't know how the ridge is to get back over--it was slippery
enough coming this way--and the cave may shoot us out into space,
but I'd like to LOOK at a dry place anyway," replied the
Cattleman.

We all felt the same about it, so back over the ridge we went.
About half way down the other side Uncle Jim turned sharp to the
right, and as the "hog back" dropped behind us, we found
ourselves out on the steep side of a mountain, the perpendicular
cliff over us to the right, the river roaring savagely far down
below our left, and sheets of water glazing the footing we could
find among the boulders and debris. Hardly could the ponies keep
from slipping sideways on the slope, as we proceeded farther and
farther from the solidity of the ridge behind us, we experienced
the illusion of venturing out on a tight rope over abysses of
space. Even the feeling of danger was only an illusion, however,
composite of the falling rain, the deepening twilight, and the