Chapter 8
Cry of the Wolves
Just as Tom had said, the trail left the little-timbered saddle and climbed to the false top and benched along for a way before it started the slide country.
The moonlight was in and out and any place the Arabian couldn’t see the trail he stopped. Tom waited till he felt safe again and rode on. At the head of the shale slide, he stopped again, this time in good light. He was looking at the trail and not liking what he saw.
Pieces of flat shale rock from the size of a man’s hand to the size of his head lay several feet deep on the side of a steep mountain slide. It looked like it was ready to avalanche all on its own.
The trail went up at a fairly good angle for as far as you could see and climbed over little outcroppings of solid rock along the way. In the
