t left us, taking
with him R.C. and Lee and Nielsen, all of whom were to have stands
along the rim. We hoped to start a bear and chase him round under the
high points toward Horton Thicket.

The magnificent view from the head of a trail where Edd started down
impressed me so powerfully that I lagged behind. Below me heaved
a split, tossed, dimpled, waving, rolling world of black-green
forestland. Far across it stood up a rugged, blue, waved range of
mountains--the Sierra Anchas.

The trail was rough, even for Arizonians, which made it for me little
short of impassable. I got off to lead my horse. He had to be pulled
most of the time, wherefore I lost patience with him. I loved horses,
but not stubborn ones. All the way down the rocky trail the bunch
grass and wild oak and manzanita were so thick that I had to crush my
way through. At length I had descended the steep part to find Edd and
George waiting for me below on the juniper benches. These were slopes
of red earth or clay, bare of grass, but thick with junipers, cactus,
and manzanita. This face of the great rim was a southern exposure,
hot and dusty. The junipers were thick. The green of their foliage
somewhat resembled cedars, but their berries were gray-blue, almost
lavender in color. I tasted several from different trees, until I
found one with sweet, somewhat acrid taste. Significant it was that
this juniper had broken branches where bears had climbed to eat the
fruit, and all around on the ground beneath was bear sign. Edd said
the tracks were cold, but all the same he had to be harsh with the
hounds to hold them in. I counted twenty piles of bear manure under
one juniper, and many places where bears had scraped in the soft earth
and needles.

We went on down this slope, getting into thicker brush and rougher
ground. All at once the hounds opened up in thrilling chorus of bays
and barks. I saw Edd jump off his horse to stoop and examine the
ground, where evidently he had seen a bear track. "Fresh--made last
night!" he yelled, mounting hurriedly. "Hi! Hi! Hi!" His horse leaped
through the brush, and George followed. In an instant they were out of
sight. Right there my trouble began. I spurred my horse after them,
and it developed that he differed from me in regard to direction and
going. He hated the brush. But I made him take to it and made him run.
Dodging branches was an old story for me, and if I had been on a good
fast horse I might have kept Edd and Ge