Daylight had by this time given way to deepest night, and ahead all looked black and forbidding. Our driver could not even see the road, which was, moreover, obscured by a growth of trees in the canyon.
“Gentlemen,” said McGill, “this rig has no brake to hold it. There is a big down-grade here and a sharp turn at the bottom. From there to Jim’s house is about a mile. We must manage to stop one of the hind wheels, for these mules will never be able to hold the load in check; besides, I can’t see the road, and must let the animals take their course.”
We tied the right rear wheel with a stout bit of rope and started again, but with this difference—Levy, Bates, and I each lighted cigars, which Levy had brought from Bonita, and, puffing vigorously at these, walked ahead of the load, endeavouring to pilot McGill by the glow of the lighted “stogies.”
There were times when the mules and the locked wheel were insufficient to check the wagon to any great extent, on account of the steepness of the grade, but at first all went well. It was not long before we reached the sharp turn at the bottom. We were greatly in advance of McGill now, and, indeed, we could hear nothing of him, so Levy went back to investigate and to warn him of the danger ahead. He found the wagon halted at a fairly level spot to recuperate the exhausted animals. Levy told the Scotsman that he was about to plunge down the last and most precipitous piece of road, and urged him to give it up.
McGill was headstrong, however, and insisted upon going ahead, so we took up our stand with our cigars, to mark the turn at the bottom, and the big vehicle started.
We could hear it gaining speed every moment. Mingled with the rumbling of the wagon and the clatter of the animals’ hoofs we heard the shouts of McGill, who had now lost all control over his team.
On they came with a rush and a roar, and we, who were lighting the way, discovered we were in some danger. At the last moment we sprang back into the rocks and brush at the side as the team swept irresistibly on.
The leaders took the turn all right, but the next instant there was a crash and a yell from McGill. The wagon had left the road and plunged into a tree, the harness gave way, and Bedlam broke loose.
The Scotsman saved his skin by jumping fairly into a bush, while we sprang to the animals’ heads to check them. They showed, however, no disposition on their part to run away; they knew when they had had enough.
Away down in the distance we could see a light, which McGill said was at Jim’s house. He would leave us with the animals and seek assistance from the house, he told us.