'UncleBark?'Yola'svoicesaid,lowandclear.Oneofthebugswasbehindapictureofdroopingrosesonthewalloverthetelephonetable.

'...honey.'Theoccasionalwordescapedfromthereceiverinreturn,butYolamusthavebeenholdingitclosetoherear.

'Sure.Everything'sjustfinehere,'shesaid.'Absolutelynokindoftrouble.'

'...Matt?...'

'That'swhatIcalledabout,UncleBark.Mattwrotemehe'shavingtogiveupinEurope.Hesayshecan'tgetneartoyou-know-who,they'vegothimholedupastightasFortKnox.SoIguesswe'lljusthavetokeepeverythingunderwrapsforawhilelonger.'

'Itsureisanuisance,yeah.Butaslongaswegethimtoyoubeforethesnowscomeagain...'

'Howcanwe?Youknowitisn'tbuiltforthat.'

'...stay...'

'Wecertainlycan'tsendhimdowntoClint'swiththeothers.We'dwasteawholeyearandhemightbreakalegorsomething.'

'...desert.'

'Wedon'twanthimatPitts,itisn'tbuiltforit.b.u.t.there'sagoodlongtimeforMatttoarrangesomething.'

'...hadn'tstarted.'

'Yeah,I'msureyouwould.But.i.t'stoolatenow.HowwerewetoknowthatsomethingsoG.o.ddamstupidwouldhappen?Mattwillprobablybehomesometimetomorrow.I'llhavehimcallyou.'

Sheputdownthereceiversoonafterthat:andIwoundbackthetapeandplayedtheconversationoveragain.Twounsubstantialpointsemerged.IfDaveTellerhadbeentooobviouslyguarded,Mattwouldhaverealisedthatthepuntepisodewasnotconsideredtobeanaccident.Andthesomething'G.o.ddamstupid'whichhadsomewhereorotherupsettheClives'originalplansmightbethatI'dbeentheretofishDaveoutoftheriver,ormightbesomethingelsequitedifferent;somethingwhichhadmadetheremovalofDavenecessaryinthefirstplace.ThehorsehadbeenstolenonJune15th,Tuesday,andYolahadaskedtheLondonhotelforDave'sweek-endaddressonJune19th,Sat.u.r.day.Sowhat,ifanything,hadhappenedinthefourdaysbetween?SomethingG.o.ddamstupid...

ItoldYolaafterbreakfastonSat.u.r.daymorningthatIhadenjoyedmystayimmenselyandwouldbeleavingthefollowingday.Shesmiledtheregulationsmilewithoutclearlyfocussing,andthankedmeforlettingherknow.

'SoifIcouldhavemybillatbreakfasttomorrow?'Isuggested.

'Sure,'shesaid,'Butyoucan'tstayoverMondayfortheFourth?'

I'mafraidnot.'

Shenodded,notcaringonewayortheother.'I'llget.i.treadyforyou,then.'

TheWilkersons.e.xclaimedovermygoing.'You'llmissthebarbecue,'Samanthasaid.'Andthefloattripdowntheriver.'

AlocalmantookpartiesdownthefastflowingSnakeonblackinflatedrubberraftdinghies:oneofthearea'sattractions,liketherodeoandtheskilift.TheWilkersonshadaskedmetojointhem.'MaybeI'llcomebacknextyear,'Isaid.AndmaybeIwouldn't.

IlookedafterthechildrenthatafternoonwhileBetty-AnnwenttothehairdresserandWilkiedrovetoadistantlakeforthefishing.Theyswaminthestream,whereIrefusedtojointhemincasemyheadinthewaterjoggedYola'ssleepingmemory,andwefedsugarandhandfulsofgra.s.sthroughtherailstotheleggyfoalsinthelittlepaddock.Therailsweresolidyoungtreetrunksdove-tailedandnailedintoevenst.u.r.dierposts,andthegatewasjusta.s.substantial.Itshingeswereboltedthroughthegatepost,andaheavypadlockfasteneditthroughtwostronghasps.Noneofthisstrengthwasnew.

SamanthaandMickeydidn'tthinkmuchofthesardinebay.

'Toospindly,'Mickeysaid.'Hislegswouldsnapifhewentupthemountain.'IlookedacrossattheTetonrange,thetopsshiningwhiteinthehotsun.Thesure-footedborn-to-itranchhorsespickedtheirwayeasilyupanddownthesteeprockypathsoverthere,throughthewoodsgrowingwithflathuckleberryleaves,acrossthescreesleftfromlandslips,andontothebarestonypatchesabovethesnowline.

'Whydon'tyoustay'I'lllMondaynight?'saidMickey.'Ifyougotomorrow,you'llmissthefireworks.'

CHAPTERNINE.

Atoneo'clock,earlySundaymorning,Istoodontheporchofmycabinwaitingformyeyestodilate,andlisteningtothenight.

Aslightwind,rifflingthetrees.Acarhorn,verydistant.Thefainthumoftheelectricgeneratorinitsspecialhouse.NosoundfromYola'scabin.Noneallevening.Matthadn'tyetcomehome.

WithsomemisgivingsIhadleftmyridingbootsinthecabin,andworeonlythinrubber-soledplimsolls,withapairofsocksontop.Iwalkedquietlythroughthesagebrushonthelongwayroundtothelittlepaddock,thespicyfragrancerisingintomynoseasIdisturbedthesilvergreyleaves.Thehalfmoonlightwasenoughtoseebywithoutatorchandstreakycloudsmadeshiftingshadowsacrosstheground:itcouldn'thavebeenbetterifI'dsentinanorder.

Thepadlock'sstrengthwasillusory.Ithadasimplelevermovementinsidewhichtookmelessthanfiveminutestofiddleopen.Noonecouldhaveheardtheclickofsuccess.Northetinysqueakofthegateopening.Islippedthroughanddistributedsugartothemaresandfoals.Thebaywiththewhiteblazegreetedthiswithatrumpetingwhinny;butnolightswentoninYola'scabinorthewranglers'bunkhouse.

ThesardinehorseflaredhisnostrilsatmebutatethesugarandletmeslipoverhisheadthesimpleropehalterIhadcomearmedwith.Ispentsometimerubbinghisnoseandpattinghisneck,andwhenIwalkedtowardsthegatehecamewithmedocilelyenough.Iopenedthegateandledhimthrough,andthemaresandfoalsquietlyfollowed,theirunshodhoovesmakingdulllittleclopsontheloamyground.

Thegentleprocessionwentslowlyacrosstowardstheriver,overtheflatbridgewithhollowthuds,andupintothedarknessofthepinewoods.Themaressoonstoppedtograze,andthefoalswiththem,b.u.t.thebaystallionwiththeblazesuddenlyrealisedhewasfreeagain,andcrashedpastmeathighspeed,squealingandcanteringupthepathandmakingasmuchnoiseasatrain-loadoffootb.a.l.l.supporters.Anxious,heart-quickenedmomentspa.s.sed:butstillnoreactionfrombelow.

Thesardinebaytuggedhardtofollow.Isoothedhimandsteadiedhim,andwepresentlywalkedon.Hepickedhiswaytoocautiouslyoverthestonesandcornersofrocksstickingupinthenarrowpath,butIcouldn'thurryhimwithoutrisk;myneckp.r.i.c.kledatthethoughtofbeingslungintoaWyomingjailforhorsestealing;but.i.twasnothingtothefearIhadthatMickeymightberightaboutthosespindlylegs.

Inplacesallthewayupthewidthofthepathdwindledtotwofeet,withawallofrockononesideandasteepslopeontheother.Ridingalongthembydayonesimplyhadtotrustthatone'shorsewouldn'ttumbleovertheedge,asnothingcouldthenhavestoppedarock-strewnrollingdescentoftwoorthreehundredfeet.Atthesepointstherewasn'troomtowalksidebysidewithahorseonewasleading:Iinchedupthepathaheadofhim,andslowly,cautiously,heputhisfeetdelicatelydownbetweenthebiggerstones,andscrunchedafterme.

Twoorthreetimeswepa.s.sedsmallgroupsofhorsesfromtheranch,thecowbellclankinggentlyroundtheneckoftheleaderandbetrayingtheirpresence.Theirdarkshapesmeltedintothejumbledbackgroundofwoodsandrocks,andthemoonlightpickedoutonlyaneye,arump,aswishingtail.Thewranglersfoundthemeachmorningbytracking,asthebellswereonlyaudibleforafurlong.I'dhadalongtalkwithoneoftheboysabouttracking,andhe'dshownmehowtheydidit.TheyweregoingtobeabletofollowmywayupthemountainasclearlyasifI'dgiventhemdirections,andtotellthetimeIwentbytheamountofdewwhichformedinthehoofprints.Theboyhadshownmehoofprints,toldmehowmanyhorseshadgonebyandwhen,andallIhadseenweresomescattereddustymarks.Theyreadthegroundlikeabook.IfItriedtoobliteratethesardinehorse'shoofprints,IobliteratedalsoanychanceoftheClivesbelievinghehadwanderedoffbyaccident.Thefuzzyoutlineofplimsollsundersockswas,Ihoped,goingtopa.s.sunnoticed:nothinglesswasworththediscomfortofwearingthemonsuchjaggedgoing.

IttooktwohourstoreachtwelvethousandfeetandtocometotheendofthetracksI'dlearnedinthepastfourdays.Fromthereitwasacaseoftrustingmyownnose.ThedriftingstreaksofcloudmadeblackshadowslikepitsacrosstherocksandseveraltimesIstoodstillandfeltaheadwithonetoetomakesurethatthegroundwasinfactstillthere,andIwasnotsteppingstraightoffaprecipice.Themoonitself,andthecoldmountainairmovingagainstmyrightcheek,keptmegoingintherightgeneraldirection,b.u.t.thedotted-linetrailIhadstudiedonthemapprovedmoreoptimisticthanactual.

Thehorse'slegsstooduptoitremarkablywell.Minehadalreadyhadenough.MountaineeringwasnotamongCivilServicerequirements.

ThepeakoftheGrandTetonrosetothirteenthousandsevenhundredfeet.Thesummitloomedveryclose.Patchesofsnow,halfmelted,exposedblack-lookingbanksofscree.Icamesuddenlyacrossanarrowtrailwindingpastthemlikeaneel:peoplehadwalkedalongthererecently,sc.r.a.pingintothesnow.Ihad,withsomeluck,cometherightway.Thecoldbitdownundermyblackjerseyandthroughthethinshirtunderneath,andIwishedIhadhadthesensetobringgloves.But.i.tcouldn'tbeagreatdealfurther:throughtheshortcanyonpa.s.s,andouttheotherside.Ilookedatmywatch.TheclimbhadtakennearlythreehoursandIwaslate.

Itwasdarkerinthecanyon,butalsoinvisiblefromthevalleybelow.Itookthesmalltorchoutofmyjeanspocket,andshoneitinfrontofmyfeet.Becauseofthat,thewholeexpeditioncameunstuck.

Amansuddenlyroundedacornerashortwayaheadandstoodfoursquareinthecentreofthetrail.StartledevenmorethanIwas,thehorsebackedinstantlyaway,toretheropeoutofmyhand,pulledmeflatoverasItriedtohangon,andskippedsharplyawayalonganarrowridgebranchingofftotheleft.

SickandfuriousIgotbackonmyfeetandturnedtogoafterhim.Themantookatentativestepdownthetrailandcalledout.

'Gene?'

ItwasWalt.

Ibitmytongueliterallytostoptherageinmymindfromspillingoverhim.Therewasn'ttimeforit.

'Isawyoucoming.Thelight,'heexplained.'IthoughtI'dcomealongtomeetyou.You'relaterthanyousaid.'

'Yes.'Ishutmymouth.Therewashalfamillionpoundslooseinadeathtrap.Myresponsibility,andmyfault.

Themoonpushedoutafeebletwentywatts.Icouldn'tseethehorse.Thepathhehadtakeninpanicwasaledgeeighteenincheswidewithsheerrockontheleftandafierceslopeofscreeontheright.Agradientsosteepthat.i.twasasdangerousasastraightdowndrop:andinitsblackinvisibledepthstherewouldbetheusualbigslabswithupjuttingedges.

'Stayhere,'IsaidtoWalt.'Andkeepquiet.'

Henoddedwithoutspeaking,understandingthatthesituationwasbeyondapology.Hisinstructionshadbeenexpresslytowaitformeatonearrangedspot.

Theledgewasthirtyfeetlongwithabendtotheleft.Iwalkedalongitslowly,notusingthetorch,mylefthandtrailingalongtherockwall,thegreylightjustenoughtoshowthecrumblyunevenouteredge.

Afterthirtyfeettheledgewidenedintoasaucer-shapedbowlthreequarterssurroundedbytoweringrocks.Theslopingfloorofthebowlleddirectlyintothesharperslopeofthescree.Onthefloorofthebowl,patchysnowandroughblackpebble.

Thehorsewa.s.standingthere,sweating.Quiveringineveryrigidlimb.Therewasnowayoutexceptbackalongtheledge.

Istrokedhismuzzleandgavehimfourlumpsofsugar,speakinggentlytohiminavoicemuchcalmerthanmyfeelings.Ittooktenminutesfortheexcessivetensiontoleavehisbody,andanotherfivebeforehewouldmove.ThenIturnedhimcarefullyrounduntilhewasfacingthewayhehadcome.

Horsesreactinstantlytohumanfear.TheonlychanceIhadofgettinghimsafelybackwastowalkroundthereasifitwereabroadconcretepathacrosshisownstableyard.Ifhesmeltfear,hewouldn'tcome.

Wheretheledgebegan,hebaulked.Igavehimmoresugarandmoresweettalk.ThenIturnedmybackonhimandwiththehalterropeleadingovermyleftshoulder,walkedslowlyaway.Therewasthefaintestofprotestingbackwardtugs.Thenhecame.

Thirtyfeethadneverseemedsointerminable.Butananimal'ssixthsensekepthimfromputtingafootovertheedge,andtheslitheringclopofhishoovesonthebrokengroundcamesteadilyaftermealltheway.

Walt,thistime,madenosoundatall.Icameacrosshimstandingmotionlessseveralyardsuptheintendedtrailandheturnedwithoutspeakingandwentonahead.

Lessthanhalfamilefurtherthepathdescendedandwidenedintoabroadsweepingbasin:andthere,whereWalthadbeensupposedtomeetme,waitedanotherman,stampinghisfeettokeepwarm.

SamKitchens.Holdinganotherhorse.

WithapowerfultorchheinspectedeveryinchoftheoneI'dbrought,whileIheldhis.

'Well?'Isaid.

Henodded.'It'sChrysalisallright.Seethattinyscarupthere,underhisshoulder?Hecuthimselfonametalgatepostonedaywhenhewasatwo-year-oldandabitfullofhimself.Andtheseblackdots,sortoffreckles,alongthatpatchofhisbelly.Andthewayhishidegrowsinawhirljustthereinsidehishock.Healwayshadcleanlegs.There'samarkortwoonthemnowthatwasn'ttherewhenIhadhim.Butapartfromknowinghimfromhisgeneralshape,like,I'dcertainlysweartothoseotherthingsinanycourtyou'dliketomention.'

'Wasthecutfromthegatepostbadenoughtobetreatedbyavet?'

Henodded'Fiveorsixst.i.tches.'

'Good,'Isaid.'Thenoffyougowithhim.Andtakegoodcare.'

SamKitchensgrinned.'Who'dhavethoughtI'dhaveseenhimagainuptheRockyMountainsinthemiddleofthenight?Neveryoumind,I'lltakecareallright.'

HeturnedChrysalis.e.xpertlyround,clickinghistongueaffectionately,andbeganthemile-longwalkdowntothe Tetoncampingground,towhereheandWaltandSamHengelmanhadcomeinahorsebox.

Waltsaid,'It'stoolateforyoutogoback.Comewithus.'

Ishookmyhead.'I'llmeetyouinIdahoFallsaswearranged.'

Waltmoveduncomfortably.'It'snotsafetogoback.'

'I'llbefine.YoujustgetthetwoSamscracking.They'vegottobewellontheirwaybeforedawn.They'vegotthatbillofsale?'

Waltnodded,lookingatthebigmountainponybesideme.

'Hecostfivehundreddollars.Onebayhorse,nomarkings,entire,agedsevenoreight.Asordered.That'swhatthebillofsalesays,andthat'swhatwe'vegotinthevan,ifanyoneasks.SamKitchenschoseit.Saiditwasasnearasyouwouldget,withoutactuallypayingthousandsforabloodhorse.'

'Thisonelooksfine.Seeyou,then,Walt.'

HestoodinsilencewhileIleveredmyselfontothenewhorse'sbarebackandgatheredupthereins.Inoddedtohim,turnedaway,andstartedbackupthetrailtothecanyon.

Late,Ithought.Almosttoolate,now.Thewranglerswouldbehighupinthehillsbysix,roundingupthehorses.DudesrodeasusualonSundaymornings.Itwasalreadyfive,andthefirstgreynessofdawnhadcreptinasthemoonfaded.Iftheysawmeoutsoearly,Iwasintrouble.

Atajogtrot,hisst.u.r.dylegsabsolutelyathomeontheterrain,thenewhorsetookmebackupintothecanyon,pastthefearfullittleridgethatChrysalishadtaken,andoutontotheClivevalleysideoftheTetons.FromtheredownIlookedoutforabunchofHighZeehorses,butIwaswellbelowthesnowlinebeforeIheardanyofthebells.

Therewasalittlegroupinatree-filledhollow.Theymovedawayatmyapproach,butslowly,andwhenIwasamongthemandstopped,theystoppedalso.IslidoffthehorseIwasriding,threadedmyfingersthroughthemaneofoneoftheHighZeegroup,andtransferredthebridlefromonetotheother.Then,leavingDaveTeller'sfive-hundred-dollarpurchasefreeonthehill,Ipointedmynewmount'snosehomewards,andgavehimakick.

Heknewtheway,andheconsequentlycouldgomuchfaster.

TheWilkersonshadtoldmethewranglerscantereddownthosesteeprockyinclines,butuntilIdiditIhadn'timaginedwhatahair-raisingbusinessitwouldbe.ThehorseputhisfeetwhereIwouldhavesaidnomancouldbalance,letaloneaquadruped,andwhenIturnedhimofftheregularpathhehardlyslackenedhis.p.a.ce.Wewentheadlongdownwardsthroughpinesandaldersandgrovesofsilver-trunkeddeadtrees,backtothethickerwoodswithpatchesofgra.s.sunderfoot,andmoreundergrowthofhuckleberryandsapling.Therewasonestickyinclineofblackbogwhereamountainstreamhadspilledoutsidewaysontoaslopofearth,butmyponystaggeredacrossit,tackingdownwards,sinkingintohiskneesateverystep.Furtheron,hecrossedthetumblingstreamitself,pickinghiswaythroughama.s.sofunderwaterrocks,andlowerstillhewentstraightdownabarepebblyslopewherethenormalpathranfromsidetosideineasierzigzags.Whippybranchescaughtatusunderthetrees,butIlaidmyheadflatbesidehisears,andwherehecouldgo,Iwenttoo.

Thegentleduderideshadbeennopreparationforthisrecklessdescent,andtheoneortwopoint-to-pointsI'dtriedinmyteensweredistantmemoriesandmilksopstuffincomparison.Butskillslearnedinchildhoodstayforever:balancestillcameinstinctively.Ididn'tfalloff.

Wekeptupthepaceuntiltherewaslessthanamiletogo,thenIveeredtheponyalongtotheright,upalongthevalleyandawayfromthebridgetotheranch.

Thewranglerswouldnodoubtfollowhimuptheretoroundhimup,butIhadn'ttimetodothewholedetouronfoot.Itwastoolightandtoolatetogetbackintotheranchacrossthebridge.IwasgoingtohavetocrossthestreamhigherupandG.o.downtomycabinthroughthewoodsonthefarside.

Islidofftheponynearlyhalfamileupstream,andtookoffthebridle.Theroughbrownhidewa.s.streakeddarkwithsweat,andhedidn'tlookatalllikeananimalwhohadspentapeacefulnightgrazing.Igavehimaslapandhetrottedaway,wheelingroundandupwards,backontothehill.Withluckthewranglerswouldn'tfindhimuntilhe'dcooleddown,especiallyasitwouldn'tbehimthey'dbelookingfor.

Icouldhearthepanicgoingondownbytheranch-housea.s.soonasIsteppedcautiouslyoutofthewoodsandbeganthefreezingcoldtraverseofthestream.Thestonesdugintomybarefeet,andthewatersplashedmyrolled-uptrouserlegs.ButasIcouldn'tfromwhereIwa.s.seeanyofthebuildings,Itrustedthatnoonetherecouldseeme.Theshoutscameupclearly,andthenthethudofseveralhorsescanteringacrossthebridge.BythetimeIwasacrossthestreamandsittingdowntoputonmyshoesagain,theyweregoinguptowardsthewoods,andIcouldseethem.Sixwranglers,movingfast.Iftheylookedback,theycouldseemyheadandshouldersstickingupoutofthestretchofsagebrush.

Ahundredyardsofitbetweenmeandthesafetyofthetreesontheranch-housesideofthevalley.Ilaydownflatonthegroundforafewexhaustedminutes,lookingupatthedawn-filledsky:ahighclearpalebluetakingoverfromgrey.Thetracksofthemaresandfoalsandboththestallionsledstraightuphill.Igavethewranglerstimetogosomewayafterthem,andthenquietlygottomyfeetandslippedunhurriedlyacrossthesagebrushanddownthroughthetreestomycabin.Itwastenpastsix.Broaddaylight.

Ipulledoffmyfilthysweatyclothesandranadeephotbath.Tirednesshadgonedowntothebone,andthewatertingledlikeafrictionrubonmyskin.Relaxing,reviving,Istayedinitforhalfanhour.

ThetapeplayedbackformetheheavyknockingonYola'sdoorandtheheadwranglertellingherthatthemaresandstallionswereout.

'Whatdoyoumean,out?'

'Thetracksleaddowntothebridge.They'reoutonthehills.'

'What?'Yola'svoicescreechedasthefullmeaninghither.'Theycan'tbe.'

'Theysureare.'Thewrangler'svoicewasmuchcalmer.Hedidn'tknowthesizeofthedisaster:wasn'tinthegame.'ButIcan'tunderstandit.Thepadlockwasfastenedlikeyousaiditmustbe,whenIcheckedaroundyesterdayevening.'

'Getthemback,'saidYolasharply.'Getthemback.'Hervoicerosehysterically.'Thatnewstallion.Gethim.Gethimback.'

Thereweresoundsafterthatofdrawersbeingpulledroughlyopen,andadoorslamming,andsilence.YolawasoutlookingforChrysalis.AndChrysaliswasonhiswaytoKentucky.

Theranchguestsknewallabout.i.t,atbreakfast.

'Whatafuss,'Wilkiesaid.'You'dthinkthey'dlostthedeedstoagoldmine.'

Theyhad.