‘I should guess not,’ laughed Nan.
Far ahead of them stretched the grades, winding around the rim of the cañon. They could look down on the almost precipitous sides of the cañon, where a few pinon and junipers clung to the sides of the slope. Farther down the tops of larger trees blended with the purple of the depths.
The opposite side of the cañon seemed to be a sheer, rocky wall as far as they could see in both directions. Coyote Cañon was not an inviting place. Nan had heard her father say that at some remote time an enormous quantity of water had rushed through that cañon, tearing out great holes in the cañon-bed. It was a sanctuary for the lion and wild-cat, where men had never made their trail.
It was the short twilight of the Southwest, which lasts but a few minutes after sundown, as they rounded a point on the high grades. Rex was riding on the outside, when, without any warning, his horse plunged headlong to the ground, almost off the edge of the grade.
Nan’s horse whirled and reared, as the hills echoed from the crashing report of a rifle. Without hardly knowing what she was doing, Nan dismounted and ran to Rex. He was trying to sit up, looking dazedly around.
Zowee-e-e-e! Another bullet struck the ground beside Nan and went screaming off across the cañon, while the cliffs echoed back the report of the shot. Rex was getting up. His face was skinned, bleeding, and he was still dazed from the fall.
Another bullet whispered past his ear, and he jerked his head back quickly, as though trying to dodge it. Nan grasped him by the arm, and they both slid over the edge of the grade, while the fourth bullet blinded them with a spray of dust and gravel from the roadbed.
To get below the road level was their only chance—and such a chance! The gravel was loose, sliding. Nan tried to grasp a bush at the edge of the grade, but it slipped from her hand. They were going down the steep slope, unable to check themselves in any way.
Rex was over his daze now, and realized what was happening. He had turned, facing the hill and dropped to his knees, trying to cling to Nan. They were not sliding fast yet. Nan turned a white face toward him, clutching at the sliding gravel with her hands.
‘Turn around,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Sit down and slide.’