OH, SHOOT! 



The canon fell away at our feet, clear down 

 to the red sandstone ; then in dizzy leaps and 

 bounds it caromed off to the level of the river 

 a mile below. A horizontal mile isn't much 

 in the way of distance, but a vertical mile 

 is altogether different. To quote from any 

 real-estate folder, "it must be seen to be 

 appreciated." 



Down we went through the brush, like 

 trapeze performers; then, with a lariat, we 

 lowered ourselves and our paraphernalia over 

 the first ledge. We dislodged a great deal of 

 good building material as we hopped, skipped, 

 and jumped down a bare slide; we started 

 avalanches of paving blocks, crushed stone, 

 and rubble, the larger pieces of which described 

 beautiful parabolas and took out small trees 

 in their courses. Occasionally they struck 

 other large stones and exploded in clouds of 

 dust. One could not but wonder how far he 

 would ricochet if he lost his footing, and what 

 kind of a sound he would make when he ex- 

 ploded. We slid through slanting juniper 

 thickets to an accompaniment of rending gar- 

 ments; we coasted across patches of thorn 

 brush with all the sensations of men toboggan- 

 ing over barbed wire. And, as we went, the 



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