'Knocks the flies out,' said Rincewind. 'That works, does it?'
'Course not,' said Clancy. 'If'n it does, some-one'd have thought of it by now.'
'Yes. Me,' said Rincewind. 'No worries.'
'Makes you look a bit of a drongo, mate,' said Clancy. 'Oh, good,' said Rincewind. 'Which way's Bugarup?'
'Just turn left at the bottom of the canyon, mate.'
'That's all?'
'You can ask again when you meet the bush rangers.'
'They've got some sort of cabin or station, have they?'
'They've . . . Well, just remember they'll find you if you get lost.'
'Really? Oh, well, I suppose that's part of their job. Good day to you.'
'G'day.'
'No worries.' The men watched Rincewind until he was out of sight. 'Didn't seem very bothered, did he?'
'He's a bit gujeroo, if you ask me.'
'Clancy?'
'Yes, boss?'
'You made that one up, didn't you . . .?'
'Well . . .'
'You bloody did, Clancy.'
Clancy looked embarrassed, but then rallied. 'All right, then,' he said hotly. 'What about that one you used yesterday, “as busy as a one- armed carpenter in Smackaroo”?'
'What about it?'
'I looked it up in the atlas and there's no such place, boss.'
'There damn well is!' There isn't. Anyway, no one'd employ a one-armed carpenter, would they? So he wouldn't be busy, would he?'
'Listen, Clancy—'
'He'd go fishing or something, wouldn't he?'
'Clancy, we're supposed to be carving a new language out of the wilderness here—'
'Probably'd need someone to help him bait the line, but—'
'Clancy, will you shut up and go and get the horses?' It took twenty minutes to roll enough of the rocks away, and five minutes after that Clancy reported back. 'Can't find the little bastard, boss. And we looked underneath all the others.'
'It couldn't have got past us!'
'Yes it could, boss. You saw it goin' up those cliffs. Probably miles away by now. You want I should go after that bloke?' Remorse thought about it, and spat. 'No, we got the colt back. That's worth the money.' He stared reflectively down the canyon. 'You all right, boss?'
wind had learned that hauling on the reins only had the effect of making his arms ache. The only way to stop the little horse when he didn't want to be stopped was probably to get off, run ahead, and dig a trench in front of him. Once again the riders came up behind Rincewind and thudded past, foam streaming from the horses' mouths. 'Excuse me. Am I on the right road for—?' And they were gone. He caught up with them ten minutes later in a thicket of mountain ash, milling around uncertainly while their leader shouted at them. 'I say, can anyone tell me—' he ventured. Then he saw why they had stopped. They'd run out of forwards. The ground fell away into a canyon, a few patches of grass and a handful of bushes clinging to the very nearly sheer drop. Snowy's nostrils flared and, without even pausing, he continued down the slope. He should have skidded, Rincewind saw. In fact he should have dropped. The slope was almost vertical. Even mountain goats would only try it roped together. Stones bounced around him and a few of the larger ones managed to hit him on the back of the neck, but Snowy trotted downwards at the same deceptive speed that he used on the flat. Rincewind settled for hanging on and screaming. Halfway down, he saw the wild herd gallop along the canyon, skid around a rock and disappear between the cliffs. Snowy reached the bottom in a shower of pebbles and paused for a moment. Rincewind risked opening an eye. The little horse's nostrils flared again as it looked down the narrow canyon. It stamped a hoof uncertainly. Then it looked at the vertiginous far wall, only a few metres away. 'Oh, no,' moaned Rincewind. 'Please, no . . .' He tried to untangle his legs but they had met right under the horse's stomach and twisted their ankles together. He must be able to do something to gravity, he told himself, as Snowy trotted up the cliff as though it wasn't a wall but merely a sort of vertical floor. The corks on his hat brim banged against his nose. And ahead . . . above . . . was an overhang . . . 'No, please, no, please don't . . .' He shut his eyes. He felt Snowy draw to a halt. and breathed a sigh of relief. He risked a look down, and the huge hooves were indeed standing on solid, flat rock.