When drinking, even
while the cup was held to my lips, they flew into it as if
determined to die. Their energy was unbounded, and compelled
admiration even while they tortured me. How the men endured them
without veils and without _words_ I could not understand.
For more than two miles above our camp we kept to a fine bear
trail. The walking could not have been better, and was in sharp
contrast with what the trail had led us over for the last few days.
Then we turned to the right and climbed to another plain above,
beyond which rose the mountain.
A bear trail led along the edge of the terrace, and while the men
carried I waited hopefully, rifle in hand. Ever since our bear
chase back near Grand Lake my imagination turned every black spot I
saw on the hills into a bear, to the great amusement of the men.
But no bear appeared.
Soon mist gathered on the hills, and the specks on the plain below
began to move faster and grow larger. Job led the way with a
canoe. He stopped to rest at the foot of the bank, while George
came past and up to the top at great speed.
"The showers are coming. We shall have to hurry or you will get
wet," he said.
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