“Pretty looking sight,” Roy muttered, glancing toward the black mass. “Just the place a crazy horse would head for. Yep—there he goes!”
The runaway had reached the first of the rocks, and, without stopping a moment, sprang for the lower ledge. Roy fancied he heard the hoofs scrape as the steed pulled himself up.
“We’ve got to do that pretty soon,” the boy said. No thought of abandoning the chase came to him. “Get out the old ground-grippers, Star.”
He came to the ledge, and pulled upward on the reins. With a little whinny Star tensed his muscles and sprang. The ledge was on a level with his chest, but it is one thing to clear a barrier, another to mount it. For a moment it seemed as if the horse and rider must slip back, but, with a supreme effort, the pony forced himself up and stood trembling on the rocky shelf.
“That’s the first of them,” the boy breathed. “Watch it, Star! Take it easy. We can’t rush this.”
As a mountain climber tests the ice before trusting his weight to it, Star touched each bit of rock before placing his hoof on it. Sharp corners and jagged points of rock surrounded them. A misstep would mean a painful, if not fatal, injury.
“And we’re not at the worst part yet,” the boy murmured. “Wait till we reach the edge. Where in thunder is that horse? If he—”
A sound came to his ears, a sound of breaking rock. He waited, and heard a splash.
“Missed that one. He’s not far off, at any rate. All right, Star—up we go!”
He hoped the runaway was standing still, perhaps frightened by the stone his feet had dislodged and sent into the river. He should come into sight soon.