E WING'S STORY 59 



reserve of the even-voiced, impassive packer was in- 

 variably impenetrable. 



The chances are that I would have left the hills 

 no more enlightened in regard to the subject of my; 

 constant conjectures than when I began the season, 

 had it not been for an accident which had the effect 

 of at length unlocking the door of Swing's confi- 

 dence. 



It happened this way. Coming in from a run one 

 afternoon I encountered the packer, who was out 

 hunting burros. We continued together, he riding 

 ahead and I following on foot along the narrow trail. 

 At one place the path wound along the edge of an 

 ugly cliff, some two hundred feet high. Here, as 

 luck would have it, we ran slap into a nest of yel- 

 low jackets. 



This was bad enough in itself, but to make mat- 

 ters worse Swing's horse, frantic with pain, reared, 

 leaped, and pitched so violently that his rider, though 

 an expert horseman, had all he could do to keep 

 astride the maddened animal. Twice they swung 

 dangerously near the edge of the bluff and each time 

 Ewing brought his mount around and with quirt and 

 spur drove him from the abyss. 



Again the ticklish manoeuvre was repeated, the 

 horse whirling, pivot-like, upon the very brink of 

 the precipice. This time he swerved too close to the 

 edge. As he turned, rearing, the soft rock beneath 

 his feet crumbled and gave; his hind quarters slid 

 slowly back and downward. I ,saw; the haunches 



