And at this juncture Kate's luck deserted her; it always seemed to when she most needed it. Ahead, there lay a stretch of smooth bench and she took a run to cross it. But below a slight rise on the near side an ugly break suddenly faced her. Decision was forced. Recklessness said: "Take it." She spurred. The gray hesitated--almost as if to give his wanton mistress a chance to reconsider; but he got the quirt for his pains. The wiry beast was almost on the brink--he had hardly a moment to coil, but he shot across the gulf with a convulsive leap that carried his rider over, with nothing--absolutely nothing--to spare. He made the farther side with three feet--the left hind foot slumped on the edge of the bank and down went the leg! Kate never forgot that moment. It was thirty feet, sheer, to the rocks below. And it would have been poor Dick on top of his foolish mistress. Kate really expected nothing better until with a terrific snort the pony scrambled to safety. What a horse will do for thankless man! The frightened girl hardly dared look around even after she recovered her breath--which she thought would never come back. On the sudden spurt, her companion had been a little behind her. She presumed that the dun with commendable sense had refused the jump for when she glanced half way around--she was afraid her white face would betray her little panic--his rider was galloping him back in an easy circle and heading him the second time for the formidable break. This time, too, the rider was letting his reluctant beast understand who was master; and with enough of authority to force him and enough consideration to give him confidence, he jumped him over the gap as Kate should have jumped Dick--with room and to spare. Her cheeks were burning again: "You did it much better," she said coolly, as he joined her. "Dick is getting slow." "That wasn't Dick's fault," he remarked, for he appeared a trifle upset himself by the misadventure. "It was yours," he added bluntly. Her only answer was to push ahead. She could at least keep the man busy--though she felt somewhat diffident about offering him further lessons in horsemanship. The trail led up a commanding ridge and her companion scanned the valley lying to the north beyond. Through it they could trace a slender water course. "This should be not far from Falling Wall Canyon," he suggested. "And that creek must be a branch of the Sinking Water." "Oh, I've heard about that wonderful canyon," she exclaimed. "Tell me about it." "It breaks through that near range," he said, pointing. "There are elk in the park across the next divide. There isn't a great deal to tell about the canyon--it's just there, that's about all." "How deep is it?" "Three to six hundred feet." "Straight up and down, they say." "As near as the Lord could make it." "Is there any way of getting to the bottom of it?" "The easiest way would be to jump from the rim." "Oh, could we see it?"