It's past. We'll plan another. Will you save next fall for
me?"
"I shore will," he replied.
"Very well, then, it's settled. Say by August you and the boys cut
a trail or two in and out of Horton Thicket. I'll send you money in
advance to pay for this work, and get new hounds and outfit. I'll
leave Flagstaff on September fifteenth. Meet you here September
twenty-first, along about noon."
We shook hands upon the deal. It pleased me that the Haughts laughed
at me yet appeared both surprised and happy. As I left I heard Edd
remark: "Not a kick!... Meet him next year at noon! What do you know
about thet?" This remark proved that he had paid me a compliment in
eastern slang most likely assimilated from R.C. and Romer.
The rest of the afternoon our camp resembled a beehive, and next
morning it was more like a bedlam. The horses were fresh, spirited,
and they had tender backs; the burros stampeded because of some
surreptitious trick of Romer's. But by noon we had all the outfit
packed in the wagon. Considering the amount of stuff, and the long,
rough climb up to the wagon, this was a most auspicious start. I
hoped that it augured well for us, but while I hoped I had a gloomy
foreboding. We bade good-bye to Haught and his son George. Edd offered
to go with us as far as he knew the country, which distance was not
many miles.
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