The trail headed many canyons like this, all running down across this bench, disappearing, dropping invisibly.

The trail swung to the left under the great slope, and then presently it climbed to a higher bench.

Here were brush and grass and huge patches of sage, so pungent that it stung Slone's nostrils.

Then he went down again, this time to come to a clear brook lined by willows.

Here the horses drank long and Slone refreshed himself.