“Yes,” said Charmian. “But I don’t agree with you when you say it can’t be done. We’ll pay you well to show us the valley from the peak that you mention, and for any hints or suggestions about reaching the valley that you can give us. Also, we want to find a certain mountain meadow that Morley told us of, where we can pasture our horses and such burros as we won’t need in the undertaking. What do you say?” “I’ll help ye out,” Shirttail Henry promised. “An’ I’ll tell ye all I know. That’s more’n most of ’em in the Shinbone Country know, at that. But ye’ll never make it, ma’am. When I take ye to th’ top o’ the peak, where ye c’n see all over this country, ye’ll know I’m right.” “Well, we’ll do our best, anyway,” Charmian told him. “And we’re ready to begin when you are.” “Poor time o’ year to tackle a job like that. Better wait till May or June next year.” “We’ll go as far as we can at any rate,” Charmian decided. “Then if we fail we will know better how to go about it to succeed next summer.” “All right,” said Henry. “I’m ready now.” “Then if you’ll wait here for us we’ll ride back and break camp at once. We haven’t an extra horse for you, so--” “I never fork a hoss, ma’am,” Henry interrupted. “I c’n go where a hoss can’t with these here ole legs here. You ride; I’ll hoof it. Don’t worry about Shirttail Henry gettin’ there time yer hosses do, ma’am.” CHAPTER X SHIRTTAIL BEND SHIRTTAIL HENRY walked ahead up the mountain trail, Ichabod Crane come to life. His loose-jointed figure shuttled about as if the huge trunk were threatening to topple from the legs that shook it with their gigantic strides. His loose clothes fluttered in the wind, adding to the shimmylike effect. But Henry covered ground. The four who had undertaken the exotic adventure followed on their horses, urging the complaining burros ahead of them. When practicable Charmian rode with Andy, Shonto with that attitudinized wet blanket known as Mary Temple. Hours ago the party had left the level reaches of the desert. They now were ascending sharply into a rarer atmosphere, and the yuccas, cacti, sage and greasewood had surrendered to junipers, piñon pines, and an occasional taller conifer. The trail twisted about the heads of deep cañons in S curves, U curves, and abrupter V’s. Now and then a break in the ever-thickening forest revealed the yellow desert below them like a gigantic slice of buttered bread. Birds and squirrels inhabited the trees. Once a big buck bounded across the trail ahead of them, tiny front hoofs touching his breast as he shot himself forward and upward like an airplane leaving the earth. The trees and the wild life made a pleasing relief from the barren wastes below.