increased. There was a decided ascent all the time.
Slone could find no evidence that the canyon had ever been traveled by
hunters or Indians. The day was pleasant and warm and still. Every once
in a while a little breath of wind would bring a fragrance of cedar and
pinyon, and a sweet hint of pine and sage. At every turn he looked ahead,
expecting to see the green of pine and the gray of sage. Toward the
middle of the afternoon, coming to a place where Wildfire had taken to a
trot, he put Nagger to that gait, and by sundown had worked up to where
the canyon was only a shallow ravine. And finally it turned once more, to
lose itself in a level where straggling pines stood high above the
cedars, and great, dark-green silver spruces stood above the pines. And
here were patches of sage, fresh and pungent, and long reaches of
bleached grass. It was the edge of a forest. Wildfire's trail went on.
Slone came at length to a group of pines, and here he found the remains
of a camp fire, and some flint arrow-heads. Indians had been in there,
probably having come from the opposite direction to Slone's. This
encouraged him, for where Indians could hunt so could he. Soon he was
entering a forest where cedars and pinyons and pines began to grow
thickly. Presently he came upon a faintly defined trail, just a dim,
dark line even to an experienced eye. But it was a trail, and Wildfire
had taken it.

Slone halted for the night. The air was cold. And the dampness of it
gave him an idea there were snow banks somewhere not far distant. The
dew was already heavy on the grass. He hobbled the horses and put a bell
on Nagger. A bell might frighten lions that had never heard one. Then he
built a fire and cooked his meal.

It had been long since he had camped high up among the pines. The sough
of the wind pleased him, like music. There had begun to be prospects of
pleasant experience along with the toil of chasing Wildfire. He was
entering new and strange and beautiful country. How far might the chase
take him? He did not care. He was not sleepy, but even if he had been it
developed that he must wait till the coyotes ceased their barking round
his camp fire. They came so close that he saw their gray shadows in the
gloom. But presently they wearied of yelping at him and went away. After
that the silence, broken only by the wind as it roared and lulled,
seemed beautiful to Slone. He lost completely that sense of vague regret
which had remained wit