nd widening for miles. The rim of the mesa was
its highest point, except here and there a few elevations like Black
Butte. Geologically this mesa was an enormous fault, like the north
rim of the Grand Canyon. During the formation of the earth, or the
hardening of the crust, there had been a crack or slip, so that one
edge of the crust stood up sheer above the other. We passed the heads
of Leonard Canyon, Gentry, and Turkey Canyons, and at last, near
time of sunset, headed down into beautifully colored, pine-sloped,
aspen-thicketed Beaver Dam Canyon.

A mile from the rim we were deep in the canyon, walled in by
rock-strewn and pine-timbered slopes too steep for a horse to climb.
There was a little gully on the black soil where there were no
evidences of recent water. Haught said he had never seen Beaver Dam
Creek dry until this season. We traveled on until we came to a wide,
open space, where three forks of this canyon met, and where in the
middle of this glade there rose a lengthy wooded bench, shaded and
beautified by stately pines and silver spruce. At this point water
appeared in the creek bed, flowing in tiny stream that soon gathered
volume. Cold and clear and pure it was all that was needed to make
this spot an ideal camp site. Haught said half a mile below there was
a grassy park where the horses would graze with elk.

We pitched our tents on this bench, and I chose for my location a
space between two great monarchs of the forests, that had surely
shaded many an Indian encampment. At the upper end of the bench rose a
knoll, golden and green with scrub oaks, and russet-colored with its
lichened rocks. About all we could manage that evening was to eat and
go to bed.

Morning broke cool and bright, with heavy dew. I got my boots as wet
as if I had waded in water. This surprised me, occurring on October
sixth, and at eight thousand feet altitude, as I had expected frost.
Most of this day was spent in making camp, unpacking, and attending to
the many necessary little details that make for comfort in the open.
To be sure Romer worked very spasmodically. He spent most of his time
on the back of one of Haught's burros, chasing and roping another. I
had not remembered seeing the lad so happily occupied.

Late in the afternoon I slipped off down the canyon alone, taking
Haught's rifle for safety rather than a desire to kill anything. By
no means was it impossible to meet a bad bear in that forest. Some
distance below