it is a crime to hunt them. This one, just
as I got a bead on him, always ran behind a rock or tree or shrub.
Finally in desperation I took a snap shot at him, hitting under him,
making him jump. Then in rapid succession I fired four more times. I
had the satisfaction of seeing where my bullets struck up the dust,
even though they did go wide of the mark. After my last shot the
gobbler disappeared.

"Well, Dad, you sure throwed the dirt over him!" declared Romer.

"Son, I don't believe I could hit a flock of barns with this gun," I
replied, gazing doubtfully at the old, shiny, wire-wrapped, worn-out
Winchester Copple had lent me. I had been told that he was a fine
marksman and could drive a nail with it. Upon my return to camp I
tried out the rifle, carefully, with a rest, to find that it was not
accurate. Moreover it did not throw the bullets consistently. It shot
high, wide, low; and right there I abandoned any further use for it.
R.C. tried to make me take his rifle to use on the hunting trip;
Nielsen and Lee wanted me to take theirs, but I was disgusted with
myself and refused. "Thanks, boys," I said. "Maybe this will be a
lesson to me."

We had been up since three o'clock that morning, and the day's travel
had been exhausting. I had just enough energy left to scrape up a
huge, soft pile of pine needles upon which to make our bed. After
that all was oblivion until I was awakened by the ringing strokes of
Nielsen's axe.

The morning, after the sun got up, was exceedingly delightful.
And this camp was such a contrast to the others, so pleasant and
attractive, that even if we had not arranged to meet Lee Haught and
his sons here I would have stayed a while anyway. Haught was a famed
bear hunter who lived in a log-cabin somewhere up under the rim of the
mesa. While Lee and Nielsen rode off up the trail to find Haught I
gave Romer his first try at rainbow trout. The water of the creek was
low and clear, so that we could see plenty of good-sized trout. But
they were shy. They would not rise readily to any of our flies, though
I got several strikes. We searched under the stones for worms and
secured a few. Whereupon Romer threw a baited hook to a trout we
plainly saw. The trout gobbled it. Romer had been instructed in the
fine art of angling, but whenever he got a bite he always forgot
science. He yanked this ten-inch rainbow right out. Then in another
pool he hooked a big fellow that had ideas of his own as well as