I caught my black and saddled him, then realizing we were soon to part I could not resist giving him a hug.
An hour later we all stood at the head of the trail leading down into the chasm.

The east gleamed rosy red.

Powell's Plateau loomed up in the distance, and under it showed the dark-fringed dip in the rim called the Saddle.

Blue mist floated round the mesas and domes.
Lawson led the way down the trail.

Frank started Old Baldy with the pack.
"Come," he called, "be oozin' along." I spoke the last good-by and turned Satan into the narrow trail.