The Last of the Plainsmen 



to run in this way fer water; fact is, never knowed 

 Nail Canon hed a fork. It splits down here, but 

 you d think it was only a crack in the wall. An thet 

 cunnin mustang hes been foolin us fer years about 

 this water-hole.&quot; 



The fork of Nail Canon, which Stewart had 

 decided we were in, had been accidentally discovered 

 by Frank, who, in search of our horses one morning, 

 had crossed a ridge, to come suddenly upon the blind, 

 box-like head of the canon. Stewart knew the lay 

 of the ridges and run of the canons as well as any 

 man could know a country where, seemingly, every 

 rod was ridged and bisected, and he was of the 

 opinion that we had stumbled upon one of the White 

 Mustang s secret passages, by which he had so often 

 eluded his pursuers. 



Hard riding had been the order of the day, but 

 still we covered ten more miles by sundown. The 

 canon apparently closed in on us, so camp was made 

 for the night. The horses were staked out, and 

 supper made ready while the shadows were dropping; 

 and when darkness settled thick over us, we lay under 

 our blankets. 



Morning disclosed the White Mustang s secret 

 passage. It was a narrow cleft, splitting the canon 

 wall, rough, uneven, tortuous and choked with 

 fallen rocks no more than a wonderful crack in 



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