Each dark gray
branch was fringed and festooned with pale green moss, like the
cypresses of the South.
Suddenly I heard a sharp snapping of twigs and then stealthy, light
steps. An animal of some species was moving in the thicket nearby.
Naturally I sustained a thrill, and bethought me of the rifle. Then I
peered keenly into the red rose shadows of the thicket. The sun was
setting now, and though there appeared a clear golden light high
in the forest, along the ground there were shadows. I heard leaves
falling, rustling. Tall white aspens stood out of the thicket, and two
of the large ones bore the old black scars of bear claws. I was sure,
however, that no bear hid in the thicket at this moment. Presently
whatever the animal was it pattered lightly away on the far side.
After that I watched the quiver of the aspen leaves. Some were green,
some yellow, some gold, but they all had the same wonderful tremor,
the silent fluttering that gave them the most exquisite action in
nature. The sun set, the forest darkened, reminding me of supper time.
So I returned to camp. As I entered the open canyon Romer-boy espied
me--manifestly he had been watching--and he yelled: "Here comes my
Daddy now!... Say, Dad, did you get any pegs?"
Next morning Haught asked me if I would like to ride around through
the woods and probably get a shot at a deer.
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