* * * * *

Far, far north two horsemen came at that same moment to a splitting of the trail they rode.  The elder, bearded man, pointed ahead.

“That’s the roundabout way,” he said, “but it’s sure the only safe way.  We’ll travel there, Ronicky, eh?”

Ronicky Doone lifted his head, and his bay mare lifted her head at the same instant.  The two were strangely in touch with one another.

“I dunno,” he said, “I ain’t heard of anybody taking the short cut for years—­not since the big slide in the canyon.  But I got a feeling I’d sort of like to try it.  Save a lot of time and give us a lot of fun.”

“Unless it breaks our necks.”

“Sure,” said Ronicky, “but you don’t enjoy having your neck safe and sound, unless you take a chance of breaking it, once in a while.”