One of the capes of the plateau between Middle and Left Canyon was a
narrow strip of rock, covered with a dense cedar growth and cut up
into smaller canyons, all running down inevitably toward the great
canyon. With but a single bark to warn us, Don got out of our sight
and hearing; and while we split to look and call for him the remainder
of the pack found the lion trail that he had gone on, and they left
us trying to find a way out as well as to find each other. I kept the
hounds in hearing for some time and meanwhile I signalled to Emett who
was on my right flank. Jones and Jim might as well have vanished off
the globe for all I could see or hear of them. A deep, narrow gully
into which I had to lead Foxie and carefully coax him out took so much
time that when I once more reached a level I could not hear the hounds
or get an answer to my signal cry.
"Waa-hoo!" I called again.
Away on the dry rarified air pealed the cry, piercing the cedar
forest, splitting sharp in the vaulted canyons, rolling loud and long,
to lose power, to die away in muffling echo. But the silence returned
no answer.
I rode on under the cedars, through a dark, gloomy forest, silent,
almost spectral, which brought irresistibly to my mind the words
"I found me in a gloomy wood astray." I was lost though I knew the
direction of the camp. This section of cedar forest was all but
impenetrable.
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