ized 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. George averred that he
did not care to have a big cinnamon or a grizzly come running down
that black thicket. And as for myself I did not want one so very
exceedingly much. I tried to keep from letting the hounds excite me,
which effort utterly failed. We kept even with the hounds until their
baying fell off, and finally grew desultory, and then ceased.
"Guess they had the wrong end of his trail," said George. With this
exasperating feature of bear and lion chases I was familiar. Most
hounds, when they struck a trail, could not tell in which direction
the bear was traveling. A really fine hound, however, like Buffalo
Jones' famous Don, or Scott Teague's Sampson or Haught's Old Dan,
would grow suspicious of a scent that gradually cooled, and would
eventually give it up. Young hounds would back-track game as far as
possible.

After waiting a while we returned to our horses, and presently Edd
came back with the pack. "Big bear, but cold trail. Called them off,"
was all he said. We mounted and rode across the mouth of Horton
Thicket round to the juniper slopes, which I had occasion to remember.
I even saw the pine tree which I had so ignominiously climbed. How we
ridicule and scorn some of our perfectly natural actions--af