spines of a stunted spruce which swayed over space with the impact of their bodies—that ride of the three down the Ladder to Teapot Spout is tradition in the Big Country even to this degenerate day of the rough-riding flivver. The dark had engulfed them before the screening pines on the valley floor marked the end of the descent, and the last hundred yards through a bowlder-strewn chute were made with even the eyes of Chance blindfolded.
"Whew!" Timberline Todd softly breathed as he took off his hat and wiped the sweat of fear from the band. "Answer me true, my son; are you aimin' to go up this greased skid to hell when we finish out this little job of work down here. If so be, just tell the boys back at the Hashknife they can raffle off my gold watch for a keepsake."
"Why, you lily-livered ole backslider," Original reproved with silent laughter. "That 's charlotte rooshing with egg frills on to it compared to what 's ahead of us."
In the dark security of the pines they unsaddled to give their beasts a rest after the muscle-cracking strain of the Ladder's descent. Original, moreover, wished to give Zang Whistler and his gang ample time to settle
