And the captain swung his horse around and headed up the canyon.
"Don't be surprised if we drop in on you in a year or two," cried Jim, after him.
"The sooner the better," shouted the captain, and with a salute, which we returned, he disappeared in the depths of the canyon headed north.
We rode south down the slope and reaching the plain turned our horses' heads directly west.
"It seems fine to be on level stretch," remarked Tom, "after going up and down hills, over mountains and through canyons."
It did give us a curious sense of freedom and exhilaration, very much as when you are out of sight of land on the ocean and see the blue surges rolling freely to the horizon.
"Let's have a race," I proposed. "Here is a good stretch."
"Hold on," cried Jim, "we aren't kids any longer. We have got to settle down and cut out our foolishness. There is no use in tiring our ponies out at the start, they will need all the go that is in them before we reach the river."
Jim was right as I recognized in an instant, though my first impulse was one of anger at being called down, but I thought better of it.
"All right, old hoss," I replied, "the jog trot for me. How far do you expect to go to-day?"