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18 - Last of the Plainsmen by Zane Grey · Last of the Plainsmen

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  Speaker 1: Angry Chapter seventeen conclusion, Kitty was not the only cougar
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  Speaker 1: brought into Campbelive the ensuing days were fruitful of cougars
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  Speaker 1: and adventure. There were more wild rides to the music
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  Speaker 1: of the baying hounds, and more heartbreaking canyon slopes to conquer,
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  Speaker 1: and more swinging, tufted tails and snarling, savage faces and opinions.
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  Speaker 1: Once again, I am sorry to relate. I had to
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  Speaker 1: glance down the sights of the little Rimington and I
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  Speaker 1: saw blood on the stones. Those eventful days sped by
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  Speaker 1: all too soon. When the time for parting came. It
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  Speaker 1: took no little discussion to decide on the quickest way
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  Speaker 1: of kidding me to a railroad. I never fully appreciated
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  Speaker 1: the inaccessibility of the seawash until the question arose of
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  Speaker 1: finding a way out. To return on our back trail
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  Speaker 1: would require two weeks, and to go out by the
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  Speaker 1: trail north to Utah met half as much time over
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  Speaker 1: the same kind of desert. Lawson came to our help, however,
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  Speaker 1: with the information that an occasional prospect or horse hunter
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  Speaker 1: crossed the canyon from the saddle, where a trail led
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  Speaker 1: down to the river. I've earned. The trail is a
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  Speaker 1: bad one, said Lawson, And though I've never seen it,
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  Speaker 1: I reckon it could be found and forget to saddle.
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  Speaker 1: We'll build two fires on one side of the high
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  Speaker 1: points and keep them burning well after dark. Mister Bass,
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  Speaker 1: who lives on the other side, sees the fires, he'll
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  Speaker 1: come down here trail next morning and meet us at
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  Speaker 1: the river. He keeps a boat there. This is taking
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  Speaker 1: a chance, but I reckon it's worthwhile. So it was
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  Speaker 1: decided that Lawson and Frank would try to get me
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  Speaker 1: out by way of the canyon. Wallace intended to go
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  Speaker 1: by the Utah route, and Jones was to return at
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  Speaker 1: once to his range in his buffalo. That night, round
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  Speaker 1: the campfire, we talked over the many incidents of the hunt.
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  Speaker 1: Jones stated he had never in his life come so
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  Speaker 1: near getting his everlasting is when the big Bay horse
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  Speaker 1: tripped on a canyon slope and rolled over him. Notwithstanding
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  Speaker 1: the respect with which we regarded his statement, we held
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  Speaker 1: different opinions. Then, with the unfailing optimism of hunters, we
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  Speaker 1: planned another hunt for the next year. I'll tell you what,
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  Speaker 1: said Jones. Up in Utah, there's a wild region called
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  Speaker 1: Pink cliffs. Few poor sheepherders try to raise sheep in
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  Speaker 1: the valleys. They wouldn't be so poor if they were
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  Speaker 1: not for the grizzly and black bears that live on
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  Speaker 1: the sheep. We'll go up there and find a place
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  Speaker 1: where grass and water can be had. In camp, we'll
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  Speaker 1: notify the sheepherders we are there for business. We'll be
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  Speaker 1: only too glad to hustle in with news of a bear,
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  Speaker 1: and we can get the hounds on a trail by
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  Speaker 1: sun up. I'll have a dozen hounds, then maybe twenty,
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  Speaker 1: l well trained. We'll put every black bear we chase
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  Speaker 1: up a tree, and we'll rope in time as the
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  Speaker 1: grizzly on. I'm not saying so much. They can't climb trees,
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  Speaker 1: and they'ren't afraid of a pack of hounds. We rounded
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  Speaker 1: up a grizzly, got him cornered, and threw a rope
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  Speaker 1: on him. There'd be some fun, huh, Jim heard of
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  Speaker 1: what Jim replied. On the strength of this, I stored
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  Speaker 1: up food for future thought, and thus reconciled myself to
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  Speaker 1: bidding farewell to the purple canyons and shaggy slopes of
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  Speaker 1: Buckskin Mountain. At five o'clock next morning, we were all stirring.
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  Speaker 1: Jones yelled at the hounds in untangled Kitty's chain. Jim
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  Speaker 1: was already busy with the biscuit do Frank shook the
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  Speaker 1: frost off the saddles. Wallace was packing. The merry jangle
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  Speaker 1: of bells came from the forest. Presently Lawson appeared, driving
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  Speaker 1: in the horses coma black, and saddled him. Then, realizing
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  Speaker 1: we were soon depart, I could not resist giving him
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  Speaker 1: a hug. An hour later we all stood at the
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  Speaker 1: head of the trail leading down into the chasm. The
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  Speaker 1: east gleamed rosy red. Powell's Plateau loomed up in the distance,
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  Speaker 1: and under it showed the dark fringed dip in the rim,
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  Speaker 1: called the saddle. Blue mist floated round the maces and domes.
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  Speaker 1: Lawso led the way down the trail. Frank started old
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  Speaker 1: baldy with the pack. Come. He called beused along. I
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  Speaker 1: called the last good bye and turned satan into the
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  Speaker 1: narrow trail. When I look back, Jones stood on the
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  Speaker 1: rim with the fresh glow dawn shining on his face.
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  Speaker 1: The trail was steep, and claimed my attention and care,
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  Speaker 1: but time and time again, I gazed back. Jones waved
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  Speaker 1: his hand till a huge, juttering cliff walled him from view.
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  Speaker 1: Then I cast my eyes on the rough descent, and
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  Speaker 1: a wonderful void beneath me. In my mind lingered a
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  Speaker 1: pleasing consciousness of my last sight of the old Plainsman.
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  Speaker 1: He fitted the scene. He belonged there, among the silent
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  Speaker 1: pines and the yellow crags. The end End of the
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  Speaker 1: Last Plainsman by Zane Gray, recording by Mike Vendetti, Canyon City,
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  Speaker 1: Coloradomkebindetti dot com