THE ANIMAS 117 
I was awakened, I recall, by the sound of an axe. 
Peeping out from under the tarp, through the grey 
pall of dawn, I saw Bert vigorously splitting wood 
for the fire, which twinkled and smoked as if just 
kindled. It was a sight to make one shiver pleas- 
antly and crawl deeper into the blankets. I lay still 
for a while, enjoying to the full the languorous mood 
that comes over one at such times. 
But something was wrong. I became for some 
reason uncomfortable. A shadow in the background 
of my thoughts took shape and form. The Animas! 
There came that sinking at the pit of the stomach 
that one feels before a race, a football game, or a 
fight. 
“*Ye-ah-ah!’’ 
Bert’s ‘‘get up’’ scream cut the silence like a 
siren. No time now for nervous imaginations or 
forebodings! Breakfast was on the way. 
Answering screeches lusty, feeble, sleepy, hoarse, 
or muffled, came from the tents around. One by one 
emerged half clad, tousled, yawning forms, making 
single-mindedly for the wash basins by the creek. 
It was growing lighter now. We could see the 
sun on the high peaks, though the canyons were still 
in‘ shade. The cook fire leapt and blazed. We 
stood in a half circle about it, soaking up the grate- 
ful warmth. 
Suddenly Bert’s voice shrilled once more: 
‘‘Breffo! Take her aw-a-ay!’’ 
The summons called us to a steaming meal of 
