These contrasts are often sharply defined, the desert touching the very border of a fertile tract, or running to the edge of the uplifts where, among the rocks, some rippling little stream dashes down, to mysteriously disappear under the burning sands as though swallowed up.
After a rather long and exhausting gallop that covered many miles the little hunting party of four had now arrived among the rocky spurs, and entered what was to all appearances a pass, though Buckskin called it a coulie, which might stand for a deep ravine, or a gulch, differing from the dry bed of a former stream which is known as a barranca.
“Do we leave the ponies here, Uncle?” asked Frank, who had come to call Mr. Witherspoon thus familiarly, though of course the gentleman was no relation, being connected on the side of Andy’s mother.
“Yes, staking them out where they can get a bite to eat from that grass yonder, while we’re gone. We gave them all the water they could drink a short time back; and that’ll have to do until we start home. Going to snap us off again while we stand here beside our mounts, are you, Andy?” and the rancher, who by this, had found himself taken in a dozen different attitudes, and was getting used to it, laughed good-naturedly as he struck a natural pose, with one hand stroking the neck of his cayuse.
“Oh! it’s all over with,” replied Andy, coolly, “I saw my chance, and just pressed the bulb when nobody was looking. And I bet you I got a good one, too. That’s always the best way to do. When people think they’re getting in a picture they make all sorts of queer faces trying to look nice, and it spoils things. But the next one I hope will be of Mr. Grizzly, and say, Uncle, we won’t have to tell him to look pleasant, will we?”
“Oh! I’ve no doubt but that when he knows what you’re after he’ll just rear up on his hind legs, and grin like a booby,” chuckled Frank. “I guess these grizzlies don’t often get a chance to have their pictures taken, and he’ll be obliged to you for the opening. I hope you get a good one, that’s all, Andy.”
They threw themselves down to rest.
“No hurry about getting to work,” said Mr. Witherspoon, as he lighted his pipe, from which he seemed capable of sucking considerable enjoyment. “We might as well take it easy for a little, while Buckskin is skirmishing around, to see if he can locate signs of our four-footed friend up yonder among the rocks. An hour at this time of day won’t matter much anyhow, because chances are the old rascal is sleeping off the effects of the big dinner he made last night off another of my heifers, so the foreman reported.” The boys were not unwilling, because the ride had been hot and dusty; and just there the air seemed stirring a little, which made the shade very agreeable, after the open glare of the bright sun.
“But suppose the bear should happen along here after we’ve gone, and take a notion to tackle one of your ponies, Uncle, wouldn’t that be a pretty tough joke on us, if we had to go back double?” remarked Andy, as he pottered with his camera, to make sure that it was in the very best of condition for the work he expected to put it to presently, if they were lucky enough to come across Bruin.
“Well, you are the greatest hand to think up trouble I ever saw, my lad,” declared the free and easy-going rancher, “that never occurred to me at all, and I don’t believe there’s one chance in ten of it coming to pass, because all respectable bears should be asleep in their dens at this hot time of day. I reckon then we’ll have to risk it, unless one of you boys choose to sit here and stand guard.”