For nearly a mile, a natural shelf of rock formed the roadbed, which actually hung out over the chasm of the Kanawha, that found its way along the rocky bottom a hundred feet below.
Just beyond the Narrows in the first stage of the descent was a place called "Eagle's Tracks," where a bolt of lightning or some other work of nature had torn the rocks asunder so as to make the passage more difficult than at any other spot.
As he reached this locality the postboy instinctively looked about him, as if expecting some unseen foe would spring upon him from behind the bowlders piled one on the other.
Almost at his feet lay the rock-rimmed valley known by the grewsome name of "Devil's Wash Bowl."
The ascent on the opposite side was less abrupt, while in the far distance, rising high above all the lesser ranges, loomed the Alleghany Mountains, looking like a mighty wave on the sea of space.
But Little Snap had passed through this rugged scenery too often for his gaze to rest upon it now.
"Pah!" he exclaimed, "I am foolish. Of course, they were but idle words, though it does——"
"Hold up, younker!" suddenly broke in a harsh voice, giving an abrupt ending to his low speech. "We have a word to say to ye."
Simultaneous with the command, two burly figures sprang from behind a big bowlder by the wayside, and while he who spoke leveled a short-barreled shotgun at his head, the second seized hold of Jack's bit.
"What do you mean by? stopping me?" demanded the surprised postboy. "Let go there, Hawk Burrnock, so I can pass on."