“Why, it looks as if I could just walk across these stones and get to the top of it in twenty minutes!” cried Bob Jones.
“Try it,” said Mills, laconically. “We’ll be having lunch down in the pines below.”
Joe thought of the story of the Englishman, and hoped Bob would try it.
“You haven’t explained the Piegan,” Miss Elkins said.
“Why, the Indians that owned this reservation were the Piegan tribe of the Blackfeet,” said Mills.
“Dear, dear, another lost opportunity for dad!” sighed the irrepressible Bob.
The cavalcade now began the descent on the south side of the pass, with the Divide on their right, across a cañon, and the trail itself dug out of the vast shale slide which was the south wall of Siyeh. It was a steep, narrow trail, nothing but loose shale, and the horses had to pick their way slowly and carefully, while the riders had to lean well back and brace in their stirrups to keep from sliding forward on the horse.
“Say, Mr. Mills,” Joe heard Bob call, “has this horse of mine got strong ears?”
“Why?” asked Mills.
“Nothing, only if he hasn’t, I’m going to take a toboggan slide down his nose.”