Arizona -- Fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Western stories
Nas Ta Bega led along the ridge-top and then started down, following the
waves in the rock. He came out upon a round promontory from which there
could not have been any turning of a horse. The long slant leading down
was at an angle Shefford declared impossible for the animals. Yet the
Indian started down. His mustang needed urging, but at last edged upon
the steep descent. Shefford and the others had to hold back and wait. It
was thrilling to see the intelligent mustang. He did not step. He slid
his fore hoofs a few inches at a time and kept directly behind the
Indian. If he fell he would knock Nas Ta Bega off his feet and they
would both roll down together. There was no doubt in Shefford's mind
that the mustang knew this as well as the Indian. Foot by foot they
worked down to a swelling bulge, and here Nas Ta Bega left his mustang
and came back for the pack-horse. It was even more difficult to get this
beast down. Then the Indian called for Lassiter and Jane and Fay to come
down. Shefford began to keep a sharp lookout behind and above, and did
not see how the three fared on the slope, but evidently there was no
mishap. Nas Ta Bega mounted the slope again, and at the moment sight of
Shadd's dark bays silhouetted against the sky caused Shefford to call
out:
“We've got to hurry!”
The Indian led one mustang and called to the others. Shefford stepped
close behind. They went down in single file, inch by inch, foot by foot,
and safely reached the comparative level below.
“Shadd's gang are riding their horses up and down these walls!”
exclaimed Shefford.
“Shore,” replied Lassiter.
Both the women were silent.
Nas Ta Bega led the way swiftly to the right. He rounded a huge dome,
climbed a low, rolling ridge, descended and ascended, and came out upon
the rim of a steep-walled amphitheater. Along the rim was a yard-wide
level, with the chasm to the left and steep slope to the right. There
was no time to flinch at the danger, when an even greater danger menaced
from the rear. Nas Ta Bega led, and his mustang kept at his heels.
One misstep would have plunged the animal to his death. But he was
surefooted and his confidence helped the others. At the apex of the
curve the only course led away from the rim, and here there was no
level. Four of the mustangs slipped and slid down the smooth rock until
they stopped in a shallow depression. It cost time to get them out, to
straighten pack and saddles. Shefford thought he heard a yell in the
rear, but he could not see anything of the gang.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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