By and by Wade descended to the junction of these hollows, where three tiny brooklets united to form a stream of pure, swift, clear water, perhaps a foot deep and several yards wide.

“I reckon this’s the head of the Troublesome,” said Wade.  “Whoever named this brook had no sense....  Yet here, at its source, it’s gatherin’ trouble for itself.  That’s the way of youth.”

The grass grew thickly and luxuriantly and showed signs of recent grazing.  Elk had been along the brook that morning.  There were many tracks, like cow tracks, only smaller, deeper, and more oval; and there were beds where elk had lain, and torn-up places where bulls had plowed and stamped with heavy hoofs.

Fox trailed the herd to higher ground, where evidently they had entered the woods.  Here Wade tied his horses, and, whispering to Fox, he proceeded stealthily through this strip of spruce.  He came out to an open point, taking care, however, to keep well screened, from which he had a glimpse of a parklike hollow, grassy and watered.  Working round to better vantage, he soon espied what had made Fox stand so stiff and bristling.  A herd of elk were trooping up the opposite slope, scarcely a hundred yards distant.  They had heard or scented him, but did not appear alarmed.  They halted to look back.  The hunter’s quick estimate credited nearly two dozen to the herd, mostly cows.  A magnificent bull, with wide-spreading antlers, and black head and shoulders and gray hind quarters, stalked out from the herd, and stood an instant, head aloft, splendidly significant of the wild.  Then he trotted into the woods, his antlers noiselessly spreading the green.  Others trotted off likewise.  Wade raised his rifle and looked through the sight at the bull, and let him pass.  Then he saw another over his rifle, and another.  Reluctant and forced, he at last aimed and pulled trigger.  The heavy Henry boomed out in the stillness.  Fox dashed down with eager barks.  When the smoke cleared away Wade saw the opposite slope bare except for one fallen elk.

Then he returned to his horses, and brought them back to where Fox perched beside the dead quarry.

“Well, Fox, that stag’ll never bugle any more of a sunrise,” said Wade.  “Strange how we’re made so we have to eat meat!  I’d ‘a’ liked it otherwise.”

He cut up the elk, and packed all the meat the horse could carry, and hung the best of what was left out of the reach of coyotes.  Mounting once more, he ascended to the rim and found a slope leading down to the west.  Over the basin country below he had hunted several days.  This way back to the ranch was longer, he calculated, but less arduous for man and beast.  His pack-horse would have hard enough going in any event.  From time to time Wade halted to rest the burdened pack-animal.  At length he came to a trail he had himself made, which he now proceeded to follow.  It led out of the basin, through burned and boggy ground and