"Where in the world is he?" asked Bud, looking about.
In answer Snake pointed down the sloping bank of shale and sand, and there, at the bottom, was Dick, half buried in the soft material, and his horse, with twisted saddle, was standing near by, looking rather the worse for wear. And if the countenance of the animal had been visible it would doubtless have shown pained surprise.
"What's' the matter? What you doing down there?" called Nort to his brother, as Dick proceeded to extricate himself from the sand and shale that covered him almost to his neck.
"You don't s'pose I'm down here for fun, do you?" floated up the somewhat sarcastic answer. "I came around that turn too fast and the horse just sat down at the edge and slid here. It's lucky I'm not killed!"
"It sure is!" agreed Slim. "You want to take a strange trail easy, boy. Are you hurt—or your horse?"
Dick was about two hundred feet below them at the foot of the slope. He got up and limped over to his animal.
"Guess he's all right," was the reply.
"How about you?" asked Bud, for Dick had followed the real westerner's habit of looking first to his steed.
"Oh, I'm scratched up a bit, and lame," was the rueful reply, "but I guess nothing is busted unless it's one of my girths."
The others watched him, while he straightened his saddle, which had slipped around under the horse. Then Dick called up: