I
ran at him with a club as if I were going to kill him. He waited,
crouching. Finally, in dire extremity, I bethought me of a red flannel
hood that Emett had given me, saying I might use it on cold nights.
This was indeed a weird, flaming headgear, falling like a cloak down
over the shoulders. I put it on, and, camera in hand, started to crawl
on all fours toward Spitfire.
[Illustration: SOME OF OUR MENAGERIE IN BUCKSKIN FOREST]
[Illustration: WHITE MUSTANG STALLION WITH HIS BUNCH OF BLACKS IN
SNAKE GULCH]
I needed no one to tell me that this proceeding was entirely beyond
his comprehension. In his astonishment he forgot to spit and growl,
and he backed behind the little pine, from which he regarded me with
growing perplexity. Then, having revenged myself on him, and getting a
picture, I left him in peace.
XIV
I awoke before dawn, and lay watching the dark shadows change into
gray, and gray into light. The Navajo chanted solemnly and low his
morning song. I got up with the keen eagerness of the hunter who faces
the last day of his hunt.
I warmed my frozen fingers at the fire. A hot breakfast smoked on the
red coals. We ate while Navvy fed and saddled the horses.
"Shore, they'll be somethin' doin' to-day," said Jim, fatalistically.
"We haven't crippled a horse yet," put in Emett hopefully. Don led the
pack and us down the ridge, out of the pines into the sage.
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