No rifle, no horse worth riding, no food
to stay out our time--it was indeed bad luck for me. After supper the
tension relaxed. Then I realized all the men were relieved. Only Romer
regretted loss of Isbel. When the Doyles and Haughts saw how I took
my hard luck they seemed all the keener to make my stay pleasant and
profitable. Little they knew that their regard was more to me than
material benefits and comforts of the trip. To travelers of the
desert and hunters and riders of the open there are always hard and
uncomfortable and painful situations to be met with. And in meeting
these, if it can be done with fortitude and spirit that win the
respect of westerners, it is indeed a reward.
Next day, in defiance of a thing which never should be
considered--luck--I took Haught's rifle again, and my lazy, sullen,
intractable horse, and rode with Edd and George down into Horton
Thicket. At least I could not be cheated out of fresh air and
beautiful scenery.
We dismounted and tied our horses at the brook, and while Edd took
the hounds up into the dense thicket where the bears made their beds,
George and I followed a trail up the brook. In exactly ten minutes the
hounds gave tongue. They ran up the thicket, which was favorable for
us, and from their baying I judged the bear trail to be warm. In the
dense forest we could not see five rods ahead.
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