told Lee and I told Nielsen
that we would find it tough going. Lee laughed like a cowboy: "We'll
go a-hummin'," he said. Nielsen shrugged his brawny shoulders. What
were obstacles to this man of the desert? I realized that his look had
decided me.

"All right, men, we'll try the old Crook road," I said. "Pack what you
can up to the wagon to-day, and to-morrow early we'll break camp."

I walked with the Haughts from our camp across the brook to theirs,
where we sat down in the warm sunshine. I made light of this hunting
trip in which it had turned out I had no gun, no horse, no blankets,
no rain-proof tent, no adequate amount of food supplies, and no good
luck, except the wonderful good luck of being well, of seeing a
magnificent country, of meeting some more fine westerners. But the
Haughts appeared a little slow to grasp, or at least to credit my
philosophy. We were just beginning to get acquainted. Their regret was
that they had been unable to see me get a bear, a deer, a lion, and
some turkeys. Their conviction, perhaps formed from association with
many sportsman hunters, was that owing to my bad luck I could not and
would not want to come again.

"See here, Haught," I said. "I've had a fine time. Now forget about
this hunt. 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