Ghost Horses by Gloria Skurzynski

four-inch-diameter, M&M-dotted sugar cookies, individually packaged in plastic wrappers that said “Grandma’s Best.”
    â€œDo we have to carry all that?” Jack asked. “I thought we were only going for half a day. That’s enough stuff for a week!”
    â€œYou’re a Boy Scout. You ought to know you need to ‘be prepared,’” Steven answered. “This is no wimpy hike we’re going on. The Narrows can be difficult, not to mention potentially dangerous. Now go call Ethan, and we’ll pack this stuff into our backpacks.”
    As usual, Ethan found something to object to. “You want me to carry that backpack?” he protested. “It’s purple! It’s for a girl.”
    â€œYou’re right, it’s Ashley’s,” Steven answered.
    â€œNo way! I ain’t gonna—” Ethan began.
    Jack could tell his dad was in a no-fooling-around mode when he said, “Why? Because it has pink straps? It won’t kill you to carry it.”
    â€œIt’s the only other backpack we have,” Jack snapped. “If you don’t like it, tough. You can always stay here.”
    â€œMaybe I will!”
    â€œJack, no arguing, remember? Ethan, as far as using Ashley’s backpack—yes, you’re gonna.” Softening a little, Steven said, “Listen, Ethan, the worst thing that could happen would be for someone to see you carrying that girly backpack and then go back to the Wind River Reservation and tell it to all the guys you hang out with. So how many people do you think you’ll run across today who will recognize you and squeal on you back at the reservation?”
    â€œNone,” Ethan answered grudgingly.
    â€œCorrect. So start packing. And Jack, double-seal your camera.”
    It was past 10:00 by the time they’d hiked to the top of the paved trail that ended at The Narrows. Steven paused before a large wooden sign that read: “ALL NARROW CANYONS ARE POTENTIALLY HAZARDOUS. FLASH FLOODS, COLD WATER, AND STRONG CURRENTS PRESENT REAL DANGERS THAT CAN BE LIFE-THREATENING. YOUR SAFETY DEPENDS ON YOUR OWN GOOD JUDGMENT, ADEQUATE PREPARATION, AND CONSTANT ATTENTION. BY ENTERING A NARROW CANYON, YOU ARE ASSUMING A RISK.”
    For a long moment, Steven stayed silent. Then he said, “Well, I think we’re prepared, and I hope I’m using good judgment taking you kids on this hike. But we’ll have to be really careful.” He pointed to a pile of sticks about five feet long and two fingers thick stacked together on the ground. “OK, grab one,” he said.
    â€œWhat are they?” Jack asked.
    â€œWalking sticks. A guy at the lodge told me not to bother buying any because people leave them here when they’ve finished hiking The Narrows. We borrow them, use them, and return them to this place for the next hikers.”
    â€œWhy do we need to carry sticks?” Ethan wanted to know.
    â€œTo keep our balance. The river bottom is slippery. The sticks are like having a third leg.”
    From that point on there was no more paved trail or path of any kind—they waded right into the river. All three of them wore tennis shoes, shorts, and T-shirts and carried backpacks—Ethan still glowering because his was purple.
    The Narrows was narrow, for sure. The high, red slickrock walls were so close together that only a thin blue strip of sky could be seen overhead. Wading became tricky; their tennis shoes slipped on the rocks in the riverbed, which made their ankles turn a lot. Jack wished he’d worn his hiking boots, even though it would have meant getting them soaked. Lacing them high would have guarded his ankles. He knew why he’d had to wear sneakers, and why Steven was wearing his, too—it was because Ethan didn’t have any hiking boots. In Steven’s mind, it wouldn’t have been fair for Jack and Steven to be better equipped than Ethan. Jack had been about to argue