NORTHERN GAME TRAILS 813 



thrust up its shattered lance, while yonder rose 

 the sun with boundless majesty that melted the 

 azure with a kindling of fluid gold and set the 

 peaks on fire. 



A fine old Billy had finished an early breakfast 

 and lay drowsing on the lip of an outcropping 

 rock. Perhaps from his great height he was en- 

 joying the shifting colors on the crags below that 

 were bathed in a flow of tender rose pinks, and 

 thin, indescribable reds, and pulsating golds; or 

 perhaps he was studying two mere specks in the 

 distance, one Indian and one white man. Any- 

 way, I like to think of him, alone up there, with 

 only the eagles and hawks and ptarmigan for 

 company, and how he calmly surveyed the world 

 below, with that feeling of security and lordship. 



The climb was too long, too hard, and too cir- 

 cuitous to lead the reader over all the toilsome 

 stalk. More than once going over a dangerous 

 rock slide I would have been almost willing to 

 have called it off and let that Billy continue to 

 be lord over his domain. One misstep and we 

 would not have a whole bone left. And then 

 there were the rock slides that kept us ever glanc- 

 ing upward, for if one should be caught by a 

 slide there would be no hope. At length we had 

 gained a point from where I was to shoot, and 



