"'There,' says I, p'inting with the whip, 'is Dooley's Pillar, so called because a man by the name of Dooley, helped only by his widow, stood off eight ravagin', tearin' savages there for three weeks.' "'Good-ness gra-cious!' says Percival. 'And did they escape?' "'The Injuns? Oh, yes; they got away.' "'No, I mean the Dooleys.' "'Yes, they got away, too; everybody got out all right--only the name stayed.' "'I should have thought there would have been bloodshed,' says he, astonished and a little disappointed, too, for all he was such a kind-hearted little man. "'It come mighty near it,' says I; 'mighty. The only reason there weren't was because the Injuns couldn't get at 'em--don't you notice that cliff at the bottom?' "'Yes.' "'Well, that goes completely around, and it ain't climbable, so the Injuns had to stay down.' "'I see,' says he; and we rode three mile before he said: 'But how did the Dooleys get there?' "'They was ketched by a tornado in Sore-toe Canon, over yonder,' says I, 'and blowed right to the top--the Injuns chasin' 'em horseback and shootin' at 'em on the wing.' "Percival he cleaned his glasses, looked hard at Dooley's Pillar, and give me his honest opinion. "'It,' says he, 'is very remarkable.' "I looked at him. It was; but too much like taking a loan out of a blind beggar's hat. 'F I'd been a decent man I'd quit. There was a fatal fascination about Percival, though--you wondered how much he _would_ swaller--kind of spurred you up to heave something at him he'd see wasn't so. It needed a better man than me to do it. You never in all your life heard of such things as took place along that route. As he said, it made him glad to think he'd got holt of a man who had the history of the country at his fingers' ends. "He showed nothing but a thirst for information when I pointed out Grant's Leap--the place where General Grant hopped to safety with three Apache arrows sticking in the fulness of his pants. "'Why!' says Percival, 'I never heard that General Grant was out in this country.' "I shook my head wise. 'No,' says I; 'he kept it dark.' "'Nothing against his good name, I hope?' says he, anxious. "'Not at all,' says I, warm. 'He done it to oblige a friend--it was told me in confidence, so I can't say more.' "Just then we made a turn that brought Grant's Leap into better view. I'd thought it was a narrer slit, but it 'ud be a good horse-pistol that could carry across. "'General Grant must have been very agile as a young man,' says Percival. "'Not at all,' says I. 'It ain't mor'n fifty feet, and that was before he was all wore out runnin' for the Presidency.' "'Oh, I see,' says Percival. 'Don't think I meant to doubt you.' "'I didn't,' says I, my conscience biting me again. "There was no help for it, though; he had to have a story of every queer-looking hole, rock, tree, or mud-puddle we saw. There was one spooky-looking tree, dead on one side. 'Now,' thinks I, 'I shall lay you out and quit.'