A bear trail led along the edge of the terrace, and while the men
carried I waited hopefully, rifle in hand. Ever since our bear
chase back near Grand Lake my imagination turned every black spot I
saw on the hills into a bear, to the great amusement of the men.
But no bear appeared.

Soon mist gathered on the hills, and the specks on the plain below
began to move faster and grow larger. Job led the way with a
canoe. He stopped to rest at the foot of the bank, while George
came past and up to the top at great speed.

"The showers are coming. We shall have to hurry or you will get
wet," he said.

Every day my admiration and respect for the men grew. They were
gentle and considerate, not only of me, but of each other as well.
They had jolly good times together, and withal were most efficient.
Gilbert was proving a great worker, and enjoyed himself much with
the men. He was just a merry, happy-hearted boy. Joe was quiet
and thoughtful, with a low, rather musical voice, and a pretty,
soft Scotch accent for all his Russian name. He spoke English
quite easily and well. Job did not say much in English. He was
very reserved where I was concerned. I wanted to ask him a
thousand questions, but I did not dare. George was always the
gentle, fun-loving, sunny-tempered man my husband had admired.

Our camp was perhaps 100 feet above the river which here came down
from the northeast round the foot of Bald Mountain, and less than
half a mile below us bent away to the southeast. At the bend a
tributary stream came in from the northwest to merge itself in the