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Then I understood what he was shout- 
ing: “Let go that horse.” Why, of 
course! Why had I not thought of 
that? I did let go and, thus freed, man- 
aged to get across, falling, slipping, 
but still making progress until I 
reached the safe ground one hundred 
feet lower in a decidedly dilapidated 
condition. My animal followed me in- 
stinctively for a short distance, and 
Nimrod got him the rest of the way—I 
do not know how. It did not interest 
me then. 
And the saddest of all, the mountain 
sheep had vanished into the unknown, 
taking his little tracks with him, so we 
had to go back in a roundabout way, 
without sheep, without joy—and with- 
out a tragedy. 
