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The slave parade wound its way through the narrow twists and turns of a desert canyon trail, its dust covered wagons and beasts creating a sinuous line up one side of the red canyon wall. Csoda could see the full length of the train of performers, cages and slaves that zig-zagged behind and below their own wagon as he looked down a shear drop off of rock that they precariously moved alongside. The trail itself consisted of loose rock, sand and patches of solid slate. The pitted and sometimes unstable surface made their wagon jerk and bounce uncomfortably. At times the wheels lifted and bashed back to the ground, dangerously close to the unforgiving ledge, causing the driver to curse loud, forceful commands to the struggling ox that pulled them.
Csoda imagined for a moment their wagon
