We all felt the same about it, so back over the ridge we went.
About half way down the other side Uncle Jim turned sharp to the
right, and as the "hog back" dropped behind us, we found
ourselves out on the steep side of a mountain, the perpendicular
cliff over us to the right, the river roaring savagely far down
below our left, and sheets of water glazing the footing we could
find among the boulders and debris. Hardly could the ponies keep
from slipping sideways on the slope, as we proceeded farther and
farther from the solidity of the ridge behind us, we experienced
the illusion of venturing out on a tight rope over abysses of
space. Even the feeling of danger was only an illusion, however,
composite of the falling rain, the deepening twilight, and the
night that had already enveloped the plunge of the canon below.
Finally Uncle Jim stopped just within the drip from the cliffs.
"Here she is," said he.
We descended eagerly. A deer bounded away from the base of the
buttes. The cave ran steep, in the manner of an inclined tunnel,
far up into the dimness. We had to dig our toes in and scramble
to make way up it at all, but we found it dry, and after a little
search discovered a foot-ledge of earth sufficiently broad for a
seat.
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