More than one saucy red squirrel chattered at me.
When I returned to camp my comrades were at breakfast. Romer appeared
vastly relieved to see that I had not taken a gun with me.
This morning we got an early start. We rode for hours through a
beautiful shady forest, where a fragrant breeze in our faces made
riding pleasant. Large oaks and patches of sumach appeared on the
rocky slopes. We descended a good deal in this morning's travel, and
the air grew appreciably warmer. The smell of pine was thick and
fragrant; the sound of wind was sweet and soughing. Everywhere pine
needles dropped, shining in the sunlight like thin slants of rain.
Only once or twice did I see Romer in all these morning hours; then he
was out in front with the cowboy Isbel, riding his black pony over
all the logs and washes he could find. I could see his feet sticking
straight out almost even with his saddle. He did not appear to need
stirrups. My fears gradually lessened.
During the afternoon the ride grew hot, and very dusty. We came to a
long, open valley where the dust lay several inches deep. It had been
an unusually dry summer and fall--a fact that presaged poor luck for
our hunting--and the washes and stream-beds were bleached white. We
came to two water-holes, tanks the Arizonians called them, and they
were vile mud-holes with green scum on the water.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233