Old Tom 



toward the rim, and it descended so rapidly as to 

 appear almost perpendicular. It was a long, steep 

 slide of small, weathered shale, and a place that no 

 man in his right senses would ever have considered 

 going down. But Jones, designating Frank and me, 

 said in his cool, quick voice : 



&quot; You fellows go down. Take Jude and Sounder 

 in leash. If you find his trail below along the wall, 

 yell for us. Meanwhile, Wallace and I will hang 

 over the rim and watch for him.&quot; 



Going down, in one sense, was much easier than 

 had appeared, for the reason that once started we 

 moved on sliding beds of weathered stone. Each of 

 us now had an avalanche for a steed. Frank forged 

 ahead with a roar, and then seeing danger below, 

 tried to get out of the mass. But the stones were 

 like quicksand; every step he took sunk him in 

 deeper. He grasped the smooth cliff, to find holding 

 impossible. The slide poured over a fall like so 

 much water. He reached and caught a branch of a 

 pinon, and lifting his feet up, hung on till the treach 

 erous area of moving stones had passed. 



While I had been absorbed in his predicament, 

 my avalanche augmented itself by slide on slide, per 

 haps loosened by his; and before I knew it, I was 

 sailing down with ever-increasing momentum. The 

 sensation was distinctly pleasant, and a certain spirit, 



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