comes. Time, like the tide, waits for
no man. Anticipation is beautiful, but it is best and happiest to enjoy
the present. Live while we may!

On this last day of my hunt we were up almost before it was light enough
to see. The morning star shone radiant in the dark gray sky. All the
other stars seemed dimmed by its glory. Silent as a grave was the
forest. I started a fire, chopped wood so vigorously that I awakened
Nielsen who came forth like a burly cave-man; and I washed hands and
face in the icy cold brook. By the time breakfast was over the gold of
the rising sun was tipping the highest pines on the ridges.

We started on foot, leaving the horses hobbled near camp. All the hounds
appeared fit. Even Old Dan trotted along friskily. Pyle, a neighbor of
Haught's, had come to take a hunt with us, bringing two dogs with him.
For this last day I had formulated a plan. Edd and one of the boys were
to take the hounds down on the east side of the great ridge that made
the eastern wall of Dude Canyon. R.C. was to climb out on this ridge,
and take his position at the most advantageous point. We had already
chased half a dozen bears over this saddle, one of which was the big
frosty-coated grizzly that Edd and Nielsen had shot at. The rest of us
hurried to the head of Dude Canyon. Copple and I were to go down to the
first promontories under the rim. The others were to await developments
and go where Haught thought best to send them.

Copple and I started down over and around the crags, going carefully
until we reached the open slope under the rim-rock. It seemed this
morning that I was fresh, eager, agile like a goat on my feet. In my
consciousness of this I boasted to Copple that I would dislodge fewer
stones and so make less noise than he. The canyon sloped at an angle of
about forty-five degrees, and we slid, stepped, jumped and ran down
without starting an avalanche.

When we descended to the first bare cape of projecting rock the hour was
the earliest in which I had been down under the rim. All the canyon and
the great green gulf below were unusually fresh and beautiful. I heard
the lonely call of strange birds and the low murmur of running water. An
eagle soared in the sunlight. High above us to the east rose the
magnificent slope of Dude Canyon. I gazed up to the black and green and
silver ascent, up to the gold-tipped craggy crest where R.C. had his
stand. I knew he could see me, but I could not see him. Afterward he