. In the morning all was dark, cloudy,
raw, cold. But the wind had died out, and there were spots of blue
showing. These spots enlarged as the morning advanced, and about nine
the sun, golden and dazzling, beautified the forest. "Bright sunny days
will soon come again!"

It was good to have hope and belief in that.

All the horses but Don Carlos weathered the storm in good shape. Don
lost considerable weight. He had never before been left with hobbled
feet to shift for himself in a prolonged storm of rain, sleet and snow.
He had cut himself upon brush, and altogether had fared poorly. He
showed plainly that he had been neglected. Don was the only horse I had
ever known of that did not welcome the wilderness and companionship with
his kind.

We rested the following day, and on the next we packed and started back
to Dude Creek. It was a cold, raw, bitter day, with a gale from the
north, such a day as I could never have endured had I not become
hardened. As it was I almost enjoyed wind and cold. What a
transformation in the woods! The little lakes were all frozen over;
pines, moss, grass were white with frost. The sear days had come. Not a
leaf showed in the aspen and maple thickets. The scrub oaks were shaggy
and ragged, gray as the rocks. From the rim the slopes looked steely and
dark, thinned out, showing the rocks and slides.

When we reached our old camp in Barber Shop Canyon we were all glad to
see Haught's lost burro waiting for us there. Not a scratch showed on
the shaggy lop-eared little beast. Haught for once unhobbled a burro and
set it free without a parting kick. Nielsen too had observed this
omission on Haught's part. Nielsen was a desert man and he knew burros.
He said prospectors were inclined to show affection for burros by sundry
cuffs and kicks. And Nielsen told me a story about Haught. It seemed the
bear hunter was noted for that habit of kicking burros. Sometimes he was
in fun and sometimes, when burros were obstinate, he was in earnest.
Upon one occasion a big burro stayed away from camp quite a long
time--long enough to incur Haught's displeasure. He needed the burro and
could not find it, and all he could do was to hunt for it. Upon
returning to camp there stood the big gray burro, lazy and fat, just as
if he had been perfectly well behaved. Haught put a halter on the burro,
using strong language the while, and then he proceeded to exercise his
habit of kicking burros. He kicked this one until i