The Last of the Plainsmen 



branches, and saw a green blur. I went down strad 

 dling limbs and hit the ground with a thump. For 

 tunately, I landed mostly on my feet, in sand, and 

 suffered no serious bruise. But I was stunned, and 

 my right arm was numb for a moment. When I 

 gathered myself together, instead of being grateful 

 the ledge had not been on the face of Point Sub 

 lime from which I would most assuredly have 

 leaped I was the angriest man ever let loose in the 

 Grand Canon. 



Of course the cougars were far on their way by 

 that time, and were telling neighbors about the brave 

 hunter s leap for life; so I devoted myself to further 

 efforts to find an outlet. The niche I had jumped 

 into opened below, as did most of the breaks, and I 

 worked out of it to the base of the rim wall, and 

 tramped a long, long mile before I reached my own 

 trail leading down. Resting every five steps, I 

 climbed and climbed. My rifle grew to weigh a ton ; 

 my feet were lead; the camera strapped to my 

 shoulder was the world. Soon climbing meant 

 trapeze work long reach of arm, and pull of 

 weight, high step of foot, and spring of body. 

 Where I had slid down with ease, I had to strain 

 and raise myself by sheer muscle. I wore my left 

 glove to tatters and threw it away to put the right 

 one on my left hand. I thought many times I could 



