"That's what I have, Frank, I'm pretty sure. Come here and look!"
CHAPTER XII The Badger
A short distance down Dick's gully was a great slab of stone standing on edge, which, leaning over until its upper end touched the opposite wall, formed a natural arch about as high as a church door. Through this vaulted passage Dick led the way. In about twenty steps we came out again upon the brink of the chasm, and then it was that my partner, with some natural exultation, pointed out to me the remarkable discovery he had made.
In the face of the cliff was a sort of ledge, varying in width from ten feet to about double as much, which, with a pretty steep, though pretty regular pitch, continued downward until it disappeared around the bend in the gorge. Unless the ledge should narrow very considerably we should have no trouble in getting down, for there was room in plenty not only for ourselves but for our animals also—even for old Fritz, pack and all.
"Why, Dick!" I cried. "We can easily get down here! I wonder if this wasn't the original road taken by the pack-trains."
"It was," replied Dick; "at least, I feel pretty sure it was—and it was used for a long time, too."
"Why do you think so?" I asked. "You speak as though you felt pretty certain, Dick, but for my part I don't see why."
"Don't you? Why, it's very plain. Look here! Do you see, close to the outer edge of the shelf, a sort of trough worn in the rock? Do you know what that is? If I'm not very much mistaken, it is the trail of the pack-burros. There must have been a good many of them, and they must have gone up and down for a good many years to wear such a trail; though, of course, it has been enlarged since by the rain-water running down it."