The Last of the Plainsmen 



leading down into the chasm. The east gleamed 

 rosy red. Powell s Plateau loomed up in the dis 

 tance, and under it showed the dark-fringed dip in 

 the rim called the Saddle. Blue mist floated round 

 the mesas and domes. 



Lawson led the way down the trail. Frank started 

 Old Baldy with the pack. 



&quot; Come,&quot; he called, &quot; be oozin along.&quot; 

 I spoke the last good-by and turned Satan into the 

 narrow trail. When I looked back Jones stood on 

 the rim with the fresh glow of dawn shining on his 

 face. The trail was steep, and claimed my attention 

 and care, but time and time again I gazed back. 

 Jones waved his hand till a huge jutting cliff walled 

 him from view. Then I cast my eyes on the rough 

 descent and the wonderful void beneath me. In my 

 mind lingered a pleasing consciousness of my last 

 sight of the old plainsman. He fitted the scene; he 

 belonged there among the silent pines and the yellow 

 crags. 



(P 



THE END 



314 



