Among the High Hills 127 



blanket, with the saddle for a pillow, and the oilskin 

 beneath. Manitou was munching the grass nearby. 

 I lay just outside the line of stiff black cedars; the 

 night air was soft in my face ; I gazed at the shining 

 and brilliant multitude of stars until my eyelids 

 closed. 



The chill breath which comes before dawn awak- 

 ened me. It was still and dark. Through the 

 gloom I could indistinctly make out the loom of 

 the old horse, lying down. I was speedily ready, 

 and groped and stumbled slowly up the hill, and then 

 along its creast to a peak. Here I sat down and 

 waited a quarter of an hour or so, until gray ap- 

 peared in the east, and the dim light-streaks enabled 

 me to walk further. Before sunrise I was two miles 

 from camp; then I crawled cautiously to a high 

 ridge and, crouching behind it, scanned all the land- 

 scape eagerly. In a few minutes a movement about 

 a third of a mile to the right, midway down a hill, 

 caught my eye. Another glance showed me three 

 white specks moving along the hillside. They were 

 the white rumps of three fine mountain sheep, on 

 their way to drink at a little alkaline pool in the 

 bottom of a deep, narrow valley. In a moment they 

 went out of sight round a bend of the valley ; and I 

 rose and trotted briskly toward them, along the 

 ridge. There were two or three deep gullies to 

 cross, and a high shoulder over which to clamber; 

 so I was out of breath when I reached the bend be- 



