“Beg pardon, but I’m pressed for time,” said Stewart, coolly, as with iron arm he forced Dorothy’s horse almost to its knees.  Dorothy, who was active and plucky, climbed astride; and when Stewart loosed his hold on bit and mane the horse doubled up and began to buck.  Dorothy screamed as she shot into the air.  Stewart, as quick as the horse, leaped forward and caught Dorothy in his arms.  She had slipped head downward and, had he not caught her, would have had a serious fall.  Stewart, handling her as if she were a child, turned her right side up to set her upon her feet.  Dorothy evidently thought only of the spectacle she presented, and made startled motions to readjust her riding-habit.  It was no time to laugh, though Madeline felt as if she wanted to.  Besides, it was impossible to be anything but sober with Stewart in violent mood.  For he had jumped at Dorothy’s stubborn mount.  All cowboys were masters of horses.  It was wonderful to see him conquer the vicious animal.  He was cruel, perhaps, yet it was from necessity.  When, presently, he led the horse back to Dorothy she mounted without further trouble.  Meanwhile, Nels and Nick had lifted Helen into her saddle.

“We’ll take the side trail,” said Stewart, shortly, as he swung upon the big black.  Then he led the way, and the other cowboys trotted in the rear.

It was only a short distance to the rim of the mesa, and when Madeline saw the steep trail, narrow and choked with weathered stone, she felt that her guests would certainly flinch.

“That’s a jolly bad course,” observed Castleton.

The women appeared to be speechless.

Stewart checked his horse at the deep cut where the trail started down.

“Boys, drop over, and go slow,” he said, dismounting.  “Flo, you follow.  Now, ladies, let your horses loose and hold on.  Lean forward and hang to the pommel.  It looks bad.  But the horses are used to such trails.”

Helen followed closely after Florence; Mrs. Beck went next, and then Edith Wayne.  Dorothy’s horse balked.

“I’m not so—­so frightened,” said Dorothy.  “If only he would behave!”

She began to urge him into the trail, making him rear, when Stewart grasped the bit and jerked the horse down.

“Put your foot in my stirrup,” said Stewart.  “We can’t waste time.”

He lifted her upon his horse and started him down over the rim.

“Go on, Miss Hammond.  I’ll have to lead this nag down.  It’ll save time.”

Then Madeline attended to the business of getting down herself.  It was a loose trail.  The weathered slopes seemed to slide under the feet of the horses.  Dust-clouds formed; rocks rolled and rattled down; cactus spikes tore at horse and rider.  Mrs. Beck broke into laughter, and there was a note in it that suggested hysteria.  Once or twice Dorothy murmured plaintively.  Half the time Madeline could not distinguish those ahead through