I called the Chief and told him Ranger Winess was on the job. Then I
tried to sleep again. Coyotes howled. Rees' dog barked faintly; a
screech owl in a tree near by moaned and complained, and my thoughts
kept going with the sad news to the little home Rees had built for his
family in Utah.

Strange trampling, grinding noises close to the window finally made me
so nervous I just had to investigate. Taking the Chief's "forty-five,"
which was a load in itself, I opened the rear door and crept around the
house. And there was a poor hungry pony that had wandered away from an
Indian camp, and found the straw packed around our water pipes. He was
losing no time packing himself around the straw. I was so relieved I
could have kissed his shaggy nose. I went back to bed and slept
soundly.




[Illustration]

_Chapter VII: A GRAND CANYON CHRISTMAS_


Funny how one can never get over being homesick at Christmas. Days and
weeks and even months can pass by without that yearning for family and
home, but in all the years since I hung my stocking in front of the big
fireplace in the old home I have never learned to face Christmas Eve in
a strange place with any degree of happiness. I believe the rangers all
felt the same way. Several days before Christmas they began to plan a
real "feed."