INTO THE WILDERNESS 21 



darted here and there, or sat up to watch us as 

 we passed. Once some cowboys hailed us, and 

 we stopped to chat for a few moments where 

 they were dismounted in a shady nook. 



At sunset we entered Pinetop, a small collec- 

 tion of log cabins scattered among the pines, and 

 halted to let our ponies drink while we filled 

 our canteens, and added a few simple necessi- 

 ties to our supply of provisions at the village 

 store, for this was the last outpost of civiliza- 

 tion that we should encounter for many days. 

 We were to turn now into the broken region of 

 the White Mountains. 



Good forage was found for the horses a mile 

 beyond Pinetop, and here we bivouacked be- 

 neath the pine trees. The horses were hobbled 

 and turned loose. The canteens furnished water 

 for coffee, and its appetizing odor, mingled with 

 that of frying bacon — a combination of odors 

 that surpasses anything else in the realm of out- 

 door cookery — was soon suggesting a delicious 

 meal. And then, in the twilight, we sat by the 

 camp-fire, cozy and comfortable as the evening 

 chill came on, and smoked and chatted, or lis- 

 tened to the night sounds of the wilderness. At 

 this, our first camp, we did not trouble to pitch 

 a tent — we rarely did on the trip — but spread 

 our beds under the open sky, where we could 



