But the grizzly stayed at home and we followed on through
brambles and hard brush, through which it was almost impossible to force
one's way. As it turned out, I was not in the track of the storm and did
not suffer much from it. Soon the canon grew wider, and I could make out
on the right hand a piece of table land covered with brush that seemed
easier to get through than the creek bed.
The hill up to the table land was very steep, but not more than fifty
yards high, and when the mule tried to get up she got along very well
till near the top, when she slipped in the wet earth and never stopped
till she reached the bottom and lay down. She was helped up to her feet
again and we tried it in another place, I holding her from slipping when
she stopped to rest, and at last we reached the top. The mule started
on, seeming to follow a trail, but I could not see whether there was a
trail or not, so thick was the darkness, but there was evidently
something of the kind, for the brush was two or three feet high and very
thick.
After proceeding some distance the mule stopped and did not seem to wish
to go any farther. I was pretty sure there was something in front of her
that blocked the way, and so worked my way through the brush and
carefully past her. I could partly see and partly hear something just
ahead, and in a moment found it was our good faithful Cuff, and no
frightful spook at all. The good fellow had discovered our approach and
came out to meet us, and I am sure the mule was as glad as I was to see
him.
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