will be in the high country," the Cattleman summed up the
situation. "We'd bog down the chuck-wagon if we tried to get
back to the J. H. But now after the rain the weather ought to be
beautiful. What shall we do?"

"Was you ever in the Jackson country?" asked Uncle Jim. "It's
the wildest part of Arizona. It's a big country and rough, and
no one lives there, and there's lots of deer and mountain lions
and bear. Here's my dogs. We might have a hunt."

"Good!" said we.

We skirmished around and found a condemned army pack saddle with
aparejos, and a sawbuck saddle with kyacks. On these, we managed
to condense our grub and utensils. There were plenty of horses,
so our bedding we bound flat about their naked barrels by means
of the squaw-hitch. Then we started.

That day furnished us with a demonstration of what Arizona horses
can do. Our way led first through a canon-bed filled with
rounded boulders and rocks, slippery and unstable. Big
cottonwoods and oaks grew so thick as partially to conceal
the cliffs on either side of us. The rim-rock was mysterious
with caves; beautiful with hanging gardens of tree ferns and
grasses growing thick in long transverse crevices; wonderful in
colour and shape. We passed the little canons fenced off by the
rustlers as corrals into which to shunt from the herds their
choice of beeves.

The Cattleman shook his head at them. "Many a man has come from