e putting the hounds on the
other fresh trail.

Nielsen, R.C., and I started to climb back up to the points. Only plenty
of time made it possible to scale those rugged bluffs. Nielsen distanced
us, and eventually we became separated. The sun grew warm. The bees
hummed. After a while we heard the baying of the hounds. They were
working westward under the bases of the bluffs. We rimmed the heads of
several gorges, climbed and crossed the west ridge of Dude Canyon, and
lost the hounds somewhere as we traveled.

R.C. did not seem to mind this misfortune any more than I. We were
content. Resting a while we chose the most accessible ridge and started
the long climb to the rim. Westward under us opened a great noble canyon
full of forests, thicketed slopes, cliffs and caves and crags. Next time
we rested we again heard the hounds, far away at first, but gradually
drawing closer. In half an hour they appeared right under us again.
Their baying, however, grew desultory, and lacked the stirring note.
Finally we heard Edd calling and whistling to them. After that for a
while all was still. Then pealed up the clear tuneful melody of Edd's
horn, calling off the chase for that day and season.

"All over," said R.C. "Are you glad?"

"For Old Dan's sake and Tom's and the bears--yes," I replied.

"Me, too! But I'd never get enough of this country."

We proceeded on our ascent over and up the broken masses of rock,
climbing slowly and easily, making frequent and long rests. We liked to
linger in the sun on the warm piny mossy benches. Every shady cedar or
juniper wooed us to tarry a moment. Old bear tracks and fresh deer
tracks held the same interest, though our hunt was over. Above us the
gray broken mass of rim towered and loomed, more formidable as we neared
it. Sometimes we talked a little, but mostly we were silent.

[Illustration: MEAT IN CAMP]

[Illustration: (2) MEAT IN CAMP]

Like an Indian, at every pause, I gazed out into the void. How sweeping
and grand the long sloping lines of ridges from the rim down! Away in
the east ragged spurs of peaks showed hazily, like uncertain mountains
on the desert. South ranged the upheaved and wild Mazatzals. Everywhere
beneath me, for leagues and leagues extended the timbered hills of
green, the gray outcroppings of rocks, the red bluffs, the golden
patches of grassy valleys, lost in the canyons. All these swept away in
a vast billowy ocean of wilderness to become dim in the purple