When we had proceeded only a mile below the summit, the trail became particularly narrow and rocky. To the right, protruded from the bank a great boulder, and to the left sloped a deep and sheer precipice, to which only the roots and stumps of trees could cling. Here my valet dismounted; I should have done likewise. Mac considered a moment whether or not to descend further, then made a sudden dive, shying from the declivity and striking the rock on our right, and was jarred off his feet, falling with me over the edge of the trail.
Down and over we rolled toward the yawning gulf some forty feet before we caught on a stump and stopped. That was a dreadful moment for me. For a time I lay still, not daring to excite Mac.
Carefully I extricated myself from my perilous position, and held my donkey's head down till Coonskin got the ropes from Damfino's pack and came to my relief. In time the other three donkeys pulled Mac A'Rony up on to the trail.
We pitched camp and Sunday morning continued down the trail, which soon presented difficulties still more discouraging. The numerous springs had necessitated corduroy roads often hundreds of feet in extent. But these had been so long in general disuse that the logs had rotted away in places.
Frequently Coonskin and I dismounted and repaired the corduroy breaches, with fallen trees, thereby losing much time. By dark my outfit had made but three miles. In the darkness of evening we came to the empty cabins of old Independence, whose single inhabitant called to us from his doorway as we passed.
At last we arrived at an old-time stage-house. It was now temporarily tenanted by fishermen from Aspen, who asked us to spend the night with them. I accepted; soon my animals were feeding on the fresh grass bordering a spring nearby, and Coonskin and I seated at the hot repast our hosts had quickly provided.
The house was large, with a high roof and a dirt floor. A great fire blazed in the center, lending comfort to the cozy quarters. The anglers had spread their blankets in one end of the shack, and we pitched our tent in the other and soon fell to sleep, while the fishermen likely continued to swap "lies" till a late hour. The last remarks I heard almost made me cry.
"I don't think it would do for me to go to hell, pa," said the lad of the party.
"Why?" queried the sire.
"Oh," said the boy, "the light would hurt my eyes so, I couldn't sleep."