The day passed, and again I
slept. Herky awakened me before it was light.
"Come, kid, we'll rustle in to Holston today."
We cooked our breakfast of venison, and then Herky went in search of the
horses. They had browsed far up the ravine, and the dawn had broken by the
time he returned. Target stood well to be saddled, nor did he bolt when I
climbed up. Perhaps that ride I gave him had chastened and subdued his
spirit. Well, it had nearly killed me. Herky mounted the one horse left, a
sorry-looking pack-pony, and we started down the ravine.
An hour of steady descent passed by before we caught sight of any burned
forest land. Then as we descended into the big canyon we turned a curve and
saw, far ahead to the left, a black, smoky, hideous slope. We kept to the
right side of the brook and sheered off just as we reached a point
opposite, where the burned line began. Fire had run up that side till
checked by bare weathered slopes and cliffs. As far down the brook as eye
could see through the smoky haze there stretched that black line of
charred, spear-pointed pines, some glowing, some blazing, all smoking.
From time to time, as we climbed up the slope, I looked back. The higher I
got the more hideous became the outlook over the burned district. I was
glad when Herky led the way into the deep shade of level forest, shutting
out the view.
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