The Young Lion Hunter | Page 9

new to Ken, but Hal showed what it meant to him. I fancied
him even more sensitive to impressions than Ken, but he was not so apt
to express his feelings. In fact Hal seemed a silent lad, or else he had
not yet found his tongue. Wonderful thoughts, I knew, were teeming in
his mind. His big eyes glowed. He watched the camp-fire, and looked
out into the dark gloom of the forest, and then back at Jim, then at the
impassive Navajo. He listened to the wind and to the bells on the
horses.
"Where's our tent?" he asked, suddenly. "We don't use no tents,"
replied Jim. "We spread a tarp--"

"What's that?"
"Why, a tarpaulin, you know, a big piece of canvas. Wal, we spread
one of them on the ground, roll in our blankets, an' pull the other end of
the tarp up over."
Then a little while afterward Hal broke silence again.
"I hear something; what is it?" he asked, breathlessly, starting up.
We all listened while the fire sputtered. A lull came in the roar of the
wind through the pines, and then from far off in the forest a wild,
high-pitched yelp.
"Kid, that's a coyote," replied Ken, slapping Hal on the knee. "Don't
you remember I told you about coyotes?...Listen!"
Hal said no more that evening, yet when I was sleepy and ready to turn
in he still sat up, alert, watchful, intent on the strangeness and wildness
of the forest. It was a treat to see him when Navvy rolled in a blanket
with feet to the fire.
"Sleepie--me," said the Indian.
That was his good-night to us.
Ken shared my blankets and tarpaulin that night and slept without
turning once. When the gray dawn came I was up lighting a fire. Jim
yawned out of his bed, and both boys slept on. The morning was cold.
A white frost silvered the scant grass. Presently I heard bells far off;
they grew louder and quickened. Soon the horses appeared with the
Navajo riding one, and they trooped into camp with thudding hoofs and
jangling bells. That woke the boys.
"Rustle, now, Kid," said Jim to Hal. "You'll miss somethin' if you ain't
lively."
"Oh, I'm all stove up!" exclaimed Ken. "Whew! but that's cold air!
How about you, Hal?"

"I feel great," rejoined his brother. We all saw that Hal could hardly get
out of bed, that when he did get out it was a desperate task for him to
draw on his boots.
"Where's some water to wash in?" he asked. "Tackle the snow-drift
there."
I meant for Hal to get a pan of snow and melt it at the fire, but he
misunderstood me. He tackled the snow barehanded. It had a frozen
crust which he could not break through, so he kicked a hole in it, and
then digging out a double handful he proceeded to wash. That operation
was one which required fortitude. Hal never murmured, but he hurried
to the fire in a way to make Jim wink slyly at me.
When the sun rose we were on the trail. We passed the zone of silver
spruces, rode through a long aspen hollow, and then out among the
brown aisles of great pines of Buckskin Forest.
"Oh! Ken, I never saw a woods before!" was Hal's tribute.
"Boys, keep your eyes peeled for deer and coyotes," I said.
It was my intention to lead Ken and Hal to the rim of the Grand Ca–on
without warning. I wanted the great spectacle to burst upon them
unexpectedly as it had upon me. So I said nothing about it. Ken was in
a dream, perhaps living over again his adventures in Penetier. Hal was
suffering from his raw legs and sore joints, but he was in an ecstasy
over the huge gnarled pines and the wild glades. Both boys had
forgotten the Ca–on. So I rode on, pleased at the thought of what it all
was to them. The sun thawed the frost, letting the bluebells peep out of
the grass.
"There's a black squirrel with a white tail," shouted Hal.
"Kid, don't ever yell in the forest unless it's a yelling matter," said Ken.
We flushed blue grouse in some of the hollows, but saw no sign of deer.
It was easy going and we made fast time. About noon I called into

requisition a little ruse I had planned to attract the attention of the boys
from the trail ahead. I told them to look sharp for deer on both sides. In
this way, leaving the trail and keeping behind the thicker clumps of
pines, I approached the Ca–on without their suspecting its nearness.
Then, rounding a thicket of juniper, within twenty yards of the rim I
called out: