It seemed endless to Slone, that ledge.

He looked only down at his feet and listened to Nagger's steps.
The big horse trod carefully, but naturally, and he did not slip.

That ledge extended in a long curve, turning slowly away from the precipice, and ascending a little at the further end.

Slone, drew a deep breath of relief when he led Nagger up on level rock.
Suddenly a strange yet familiar sound halted Slone, as if he had been struck.

The wild, shrill, high-pitched, piercing whistle of a stallion! Nagger neighed a blast in reply and pounded the rock with his iron-shod hoofs.