ts fat belly gave
forth sounds exceedingly like a bass drum. When Haught had ended his
exercise he tied up the burro. Presently a man came running into
Haught's camp. He appeared alarmed. He was wet and panting. Haught
recognized him as a miner from a mine nearby. "Hey Haught," panted the
miner, "hev you seen--your gray burro--thet big one--with white face?"

"Shore, there he is," replied Haught. "Son of a gun jest rustled home."

The miner appeared immensely relieved. He looked and looked at the gray
burro as if to make sure it was there, in the solid flesh, a really
tangible object. Then he said: "We was all afeared you'd kick the
stuffin's out of him!... Not an hour ago he was over at the mine, an' he
ate five sticks of dynamite! Five sticks! For Lord's sake handle him
gently!"

Haught turned pale and suddenly sat down. "Ahuh!" was all he said. But
he had a strange hunted look. And not for a long time did he ever again
kick a burro!

* * * * *

Hunting conditions at Dude Creek had changed greatly to our benefit. The
trappers had pulled up stakes and gone to some other section of the
country. There was not a hunting party within fifteen miles of our camp.
Leaves and acorns were all down; trails were soft and easy to travel; no
dust rose on the southern slopes; the days were cold and bright; in
every pocket and ravine there was water for the dogs; from any stand we
could see into the shaggy thickets where before all we could see was a
blaze of color.

In three days we drove Pyle's Canyon, Dude Creek, and the small
adjoining canyons, chasing in all nine bears, none of which ran anywhere
near R.C. or me. Old Dan gave out and had to rest every other day. So
the gloom again began to settle thick over the hopes of my faithful
friends. Long since, as in 1918, I had given up expectations of bagging
a bear or a buck. For R.C., however, my hopes still held good. At least
I did not give up for him. But he shared somewhat the feelings of the
men. Still he worked harder than ever, abandoning the idea of waiting on
one of the high stands, and took to the slopes under the rim where he
toiled down and up all day long. It pleased me to learn, presently, that
this activity, strenuous as it was, became a source of delight to him.
How different such toil was from waiting and watching on the rim!

On November first, a bitter cold morning, with ice in the bright air, we
went back to Pyle's Canyon, and