tomach.

As I lay there in my bag, the very happiest fellow in the wide world,
the sound of my mirth was as the buzz of the wings of a fly to the
mighty storm. Roar on roar filled the cabin.

When the three hypocrites recovered sufficiently from the startling
climax to calm Lawson, who swore the cabin had been attacked by
Indians; when Jones stopped roaring long enough to hear it was only a
harmless snake that had caused the trouble, we hushed to repose once
more--not, however, without hearing some trenchant remarks from the
boiling Colonel anent fun and fools, and the indubitable fact that
there was not a rattlesnake on Buckskin Mountain.

Long after this explosion had died away, I heard, or rather felt, a
mysterious shudder or tremor of the cabin, and I knew that Frank and
Jim were shaking with silent laughter. On my own score, I determined to
find if Jones, in his strange make-up, had any sense of humor, or
interest in life, or feeling, or love that did not center and hinge on
four-footed beasts. In view of the rude awakening from what, no doubt,
were pleasant dreams of wonderful white and green animals, combining
the intelligence of man and strength of brutes--a new species
creditable to his genius--I was perhaps unjust in my conviction as to
his lack of humor. And as to the other question, whether or not he had
any real human feeling for the creatures built in his own image, that
was decided very soon and unexpectedly.

The following morning, as soon as Lawson got in with the horses, we
packed and started. Rather sorry was I to bid good-by to Oak Spring.
Taking the back trail of the Stewarts, we walked the horses all day up
a slowly narrowing, ascending canyon. The hounds crossed coyote and
deer trails continually, but made no break. Sounder looked up as if to
say he associated painful reminiscences with certain kinds of tracks.
At the head of the canyon we reached timber at about the time dusk
gathered, and we located for the night. Being once again nearly nine
thousand feet high, we found the air bitterly cold, making a blazing
fire most acceptable.

In the haste to get supper we all took a hand, and some one threw upon
our tarpaulin tablecloth a tin cup of butter mixed with carbolic
acid--a concoction Jones had used to bathe the sore feet of the dogs.
Of course I got hold of this, spread a generous portion on my hot
biscuit, placed some red-hot beans on that, and began to eat like a
hungry hunter. At first