ee, then proceeded to elevate one hind leg by
means of a rope thrown over a limb. Why he did not simply blindfold the
animal no one could tell. We looked forward with some joy to the
throwing of the pack-hitches.

[Illustration: On the Trail]

[Sidenote: A Forest Fire]

But at this moment a Ranger dashed up with news of a forest fire over in
the Rock Creek country. The Rangers present immediately scattered for
their saddle horses, while I took a pack and went in search of supplies.

Shortly after one o'clock I was organized, and departed on the trail of
the Rangers. They had struck over the ridge, and down the other side of
the mountains. Their tracks were easy to follow, and once atop the
divide I could see the flames and smoke of the fire over the next
mountain system. Desiring to arrive before dark, I pushed ahead as
rapidly as possible. About half way down the mountain I made out dust
ahead.

"A messenger coming back for something," thought I.

In ten minutes I was stricken dumb to overtake the Jones party plodding
trustingly along in the tracks made by the Rangers.

"Well," I greeted them, "what are you doing over here? A little off your
beat, aren't you?"

The members of the party glanced at each other, while Jones turned a
dull red.

"Wrong trail, eh?" said he easily; "where does this one go to?"

[Sidenote: Jones and the Trail]

"Why, this isn't a trail!" I cried. "Can't you see it's just fresh
tracks made since morning? This will take you to the fire, and that's
about all. Your trail is miles to the north of here."

For the moment he was crushed. It was now too late to think of going
back; a short cut was impossible on account of the nature of the
country. Finally I gave him a direction which would cut another
trail--not where he had intended to go, but at least leading to horse
feed. Then I bade him farewell, and rode on to the fire.

[Sidenote: We Put Them Right]

Long after dark, when hunting for the place the boys had camped, I met
that deluded outfit moving supperless, homeless, lost, like ghosts in
the glow of the fire line. Jones was cross and snapped at me when I
asked him if he wasn't seeing a good deal of country. But I looked at
the tired faces of the other members of the party, and my heart
relented, and I headed them for a meadow.

"How far beyond is Squaw Dome?" asked Jones as he started.

"Sixteen miles--about," said I.

"About eight hours the way you and I travel, then," sa