Both hounds and comrades
were above me, but apparently working down.
Thus for me the necessity of hurry somewhat lessened. I slowed to a
trot, peering everywhere, listening with all my ears. I had stopped
yelling, because my horse had misunderstood that. We got into a
region of oak thickets, small saplings, scrubby, close together, but
beautiful with their autumn-tinted leaves. Next I rode through a maple
dell, shady, cool, where the leafy floor was all rose-pink-red. My
horse sent the colored leaves flying.
Soon, however, we got into the thickets again, low live-oak and
manzanita, which kind of brush my horse detested. I did not blame
him for that. As the hounds began to work down my keen excitement
increased. If they had jumped the bear and were chasing him down I
might run upon him any moment. This both appealed to me and caused me
apprehension. Suppose he were a bad cinnamon or a grizzly? What would
become of me on that horse? I decided that I had better carry my rifle
in my hand, so in case of a sudden appearance of the bear and I was
thrown or had a fall off, then I would be prepared. So forthwith I
drew the rifle out of the scabbard, remembering as I did so that
Haught had cautioned me, in case of close quarters with a bear and the
need of quick shooting, to jerk the lever down hard. If my horse had
cut up abominably before he now began to cover himself with a glory
of abominableness.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283