I had difficulty in closing my camera, which I had forgotten until the last moment, and got behind the others.

Satan sent the dust flying and the pinyon branches crashing.

Hardly had I time to bewail my ill-luck in being left, when I dashed out of a thick growth of trees to come upon my companions, all dismounted on the rim of the Grand Canyon.
"He's gone down! He's gone down!" raged Jones, stamping the ground.
"What luck! What miserable luck! But don't quit; spread along the rim, boys, and look for him.

Cougars can't fly.

There's a break in the rim somewhere." The rock wall, on which we dizzily stood, dropped straight down for a thousand feet, to meet a long, pinyon-covered slope, which graded a mile to cut off into what must have been the second wall.