‘The man who shot at us,’ said Nan, choking back her tears. ‘He shoved it off the grade. Oh, what are we going to do? We can’t get back, Rex.’
‘And we can’t stay here, Nan. This stuff is sliding all the time. That horse went over a precipice. If we could only get around to that other slope.’
‘Maybe we can.’
Off to the left, about a hundred feet away, was another slope, which seemed to lead around and down past the sheer cliffs. It was their only hope. The ground was slowly moving with them.
They got to their feet and began fighting their way toward this slope, climbing upward, trying to keep away from the abrupt drop into the cañon. It was a terrific effort. It was like running on a treadmill.
With another ten feet to go, Nan would never have made it. She fell to her knees, heading down the slope, but Rex still had strength enough to grasp her by the shoulders and swing her around, when they both went over the edge of the steep slope.
The dry dust and sand filled their eyes and mouths to the point of suffocation, but luckily the rubble was so soft that they dug deeply into it, impeding their progress to such an extent that they were able to stand up, braced against the hill and work their way down.
Rex clung to Nan tightly. At times they would slip and slide for several feet, but always they were able to keep from pitching headlong. This slide was about two hundred yards long, and they came out in a heavy thicket of fir and small pines, still a long way from the bottom of the cañon.
It was almost dark down there. They could look back up the slope now, and wonder how they ever came down alive. Above them the sky seemed very blue, but, as they sat on a rock and took stock of their injuries, the blue sky faded out and a lone star winked down at them.
Both of them were badly bruised and their clothes torn, but luckily no bones were broken. They were covered with dust and sand, and altogether miserable.