The dawn
broke over the red wall as he gained the trail beyond the spring.
He skirted the curve of the valley and led Bolly a little way up the
wooded slope to a dense thicket of aspens in a hollow. This thicket
encircled a patch of grass. Hare pressed the lithe aspens aside to admit
Bolly and left her there free. He drew his rifle from its sheath and,
after assuring himself that the mustang could not be seen or heard from
below, he bent his steps diagonally up the slope.
Every foot of this ground he knew, and he climbed swiftly until he struck
the mountain trail. Then, descending, he entered the cedars. At last he
reached a point directly above the cliff-camp where he had spent so many
days, and this he knew overhung the cabin built by Holderness. He stole
down from tree to tree and slipped from thicket to thicket. The sun, red
as blood, raised a bright crescent over the red wall; the soft mists of
the valley began to glow and move; cattle were working in toward the
spring. Never brushing a branch, never dislodging a stone, Hare
descended the slope, his eyes keener, his ears sharper with every step.
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