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Show After establishing a camp under a sandstone ledge where Madge, her baby, the Indian boy and Nellie would be as comfortable as possible, Ben headed for the side canyon where he and George had wintered the rest of the horses, i Ben didn't expect to find any sign of horses in the lower part of the canyon. He and George had blocked the trail where it passed along the edge of a sheer cliff about 30 feet above the sandy bottom, and travel in the bottom was blocked by huge boulders. By placing dead cedars further up across the trail, Ben and George had built a barrier to prevent their horses from coming back down the canyon. The horses had been left above the barrier most of the winter. After he'd passed the cliff, Ben began to see hoofprints and old droppings, but it wasn't until he had gone four or five miles further that he saw the first horse. Two more were a short distance away. Herding Her-ding them into a small box canyon, Ben cornered the animals, managing to get ropes on two of them. He headed back down the canyon, figuring the free horse would follow the other two. It did. Ben hadn't gone far when he noticed something he had missed on ' the way up. Near the base of a ; gnarled old pinon pine that had been lightning struck years ago, he saw honeybees crawling in and out of an opening. With his mouth already beginning to water, Ben tied up the three horses and took a closer look. Only a few of the earliest wildflowers were in bloom; still, the bees were busy gathering the wild sweetness. Ben could hear the humming of thousands of bees inside the tree. Getting as close as he dared, he dropped to one knee and brushed together a pile of dry pine needles. Seconds later he was piling dry twigs of increasing size on a growing fire. When the flames were several feet high he started throwing on grass and green leaves, creating thick billows of white smoke around the bee tree. Ben waited until he felt confident the bees were sufficiently stunned not to bother him, then took a deep breath and approached the tree, his hunting knife in hand. Reaching quickly inside the tree, he cut free a large chunk of honeycomb dripping with golden honey. Setting it on the grass away from the smoke, he went back for a second and third piece. Cleaning out his saddle bags, Ben made a nest of clean, green grass inside, which he filled with the chunks of honeycomb, holding back the largest to satisfy his craving for sweets as he returned to the camp. With honeycomb and reins in one hand the lead rope in the other, he resumed his journey down the canyon. It was dark when Ben reached the narrow trail along the cliff. He was riding the black gelding, leading one horse with one more tied to its tail. Lobo was out in front. The fourth horse was following without a rope, further back. The narrow trail was dangerous enough in broad daylight, but in the dark it was treacherous. The sheer dropoff was just inches to the left of where the horses were walking. The slope on the right was too steep, and the rocks were too loose to provide any kind of secure footing. Right when Ben was at the narrowest, most treacherous part of the trail, the horse that had been following on its own suddenly decided to catch up with the others at a full gallop. "Whoa!" Ben shouted in a loud voice when he heard its rapid advance, ad-vance, accompanied by the clattering clat-tering of loose rocks falling over the steep edge and striking the boulders and sand below. The echo of Ben's voice, thundering hooves and clattering rocks was bouncing bacck and forth across the steep, narrow canyon. Ben could tell by the sound of the hooves that the approaching horse was not slowing down. He couldn't turn to the right or left, and the trail was too narrow to urge his horse into a trot or gallop. He couldn't be sure if the approaching horse would suddenly stop, plow into the rear of the last horse, or try to go around on the steep uphill side. In the sparse light, Ben turned to watch. Rather than slowing down, the horse seemed to be gaining speed. It was almost upon them, and showing no signs of stopping. Ben stepped out of the saddle on the right, uphill side, yelling "Whoa" at the approaching horse and waving his arms, trying not to startle any more than necessary the two animals secured by lead ropes. Instead of plowing into the other horses, the running horse tried to go around them to the right on the uphill side. Finding footing difficult in the loose rock, it turned straight up the mountain. But the hill was too steep to go very far, and soon the horse was sliding back down the hill, headed straight for Ben's black gelding, which was standing precariously on the edge of the cliff. Ben waved and yelled, accomplishing ac-complishing nothing. Leaning back on its hindquarters, the horse was sliding out of control, being preceded by a wave of loose rocks. Sensing he ought to just get out of the way, Ben instead scrambled into the horse's path, hoping somehow his presence would cause it to turn or stop. He was ready to push and shove if necessary. As the animal met Ben in a shower of hooves and rocks, the ground began to move as he and the horse gained speed towards the narrow trail and sheer dropoff. The black gelding lunged forward to get out of the way, and the other two horses pulled back to allow Ben, the horse and the loose rocks to pass in front of them. The horse, instinctively spinning and scrambling for footing, was the first to reach the trail. It might have succeeded in gaining its footing had Ben not tumbled into its hindquarter. Both the horse and Ben suddenly disappeared into the darkness below. (To be continued) |