Snake Gulch 



forever unintelligible; yet while they stood, century 

 after century, ineffaceable, reminders of the glory, 

 the mystery, the sadness of life. 



&quot; How could paint of any kind last so long? &quot; 

 asked Jones, shaking his head doubtfully. 



&quot; That is the unsolvable mystery,&quot; returned Wal 

 lace. &quot; But the records are there. I am absolutely 

 sure the paintings are at least a thousand years old. 

 I have never seen any tombs or paintings similar to 

 them. Snake Gulch is a find, and I shall some day 

 study its wonders.&quot; 



Sundown caught us within sight of Oak Spring, 

 and we soon trotted into camp to the welcoming 

 chorus of the hounds. Frank and the others had 

 reached the cabin some hours before. Supper was 

 steaming on the hot coals with a delicious fragrance. 



Then came the pleasantest time of the day, after a 

 long chase or jaunt the silent moments, watching 

 the glowing embers of the fire ; the speaking moments 

 when a red-blooded story rang clear and true; the 

 twilight moments, when the wood-smoke smelled 

 sweet. 



Jones seemed unusually thoughtful. I had learned 

 that this preoccupation in him meant the stirring of 

 old associations, and I waited silently. By and by 

 Lawson snored mildly in a corner; Jim and Frank 

 crawled into their blankets, and all was still. Wal- 



139 



