knew he had gone into lonely regions
upon his errand.

That errand took him far:-- Across the Basin, among the secret places
of Owl Creek, past the Washakie Needles, over the Divide to Gros Ventre,
and so through a final barrier of peaks into the borders of East Idaho.
There, by reason of his bidding me, I met him, and came to share in a
part of his errand.

It was with no guide that I travelled to him. He had named a little
station on the railroad, and from thence he had charted my route by
means of landmarks. Did I believe in omens, the black storm that I set
out in upon my horse would seem like one to-day. But I had been living
in cities and smoke; and Idaho, even with rain, was delightful to me.

XXX. A STABLE ON THE FLAT

When the first landmark, the lone clump of cottonwoods, came at length
in sight, dark and blurred in the gentle rain, standing out perhaps
a mile beyond the distant buildings, my whole weary body hailed the
approach of repose. Saving the noon hour, I had been in the saddle since
six, and now six was come round again. The ranch, my resting-place for
this night, was a ruin--cabin, stable, and corral. Yet after the twelve
hours of pushing on and on through silence, still to have silence, still
to eat and go to sleep in it, perfectly fitted the mood of both my flesh
and spirit. At noon, when for a while I had thrown off my long oilskin
coat, merely the sight of the newspaper half crowded into my pocket had
been a displeasing reminder of the railway, and cities, and affairs. But
for its possible help to build fires, it would have come no farther with
me. The great levels around me lay cooled and freed of dust by the
wet weather, and full of sweet airs. Far in front the foot-hills rose
through the rain, indefinite and mystic. I wanted no speech with any
one, nor to be near human beings at all. I was steeped in a revery as of
the primal earth; even thoughts themselves had almost ceased motion. To
lie down with wild animals, with elk and deer, would have made my waking
dream complete; and since such dream could not be, the cattle around the
deserted buildings, mere dots as yet across separating space, were my
proper companions for this evening.

To-morrow night I should probably be camping with the Virginian in the
foot-hills. At his letter's bidding I had come eastward across Idaho,
abandoning my hunting in the Saw Tooth Range to make this journey with
him back through the Tetons. It was a t