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To this Bud did not reply. He was smoking and staring at the brushy lower slopes of the mountain ridge before them. He had explained quite fully which trail he meant. It was, as he had said, a "blind" trail; that is, the trail lost itself in the creek which watered a string of corrals.
Here we launched and loaded our canoes, and went down with the stream, through a bit of brushy woodland, till we found a good place for luncheon. For though it was long past noon and we were very hungry, we wanted to get really into the woods before we broke bread together. Scanty woods they were, indeed; just a few scrub pines growing out of a bank of clean white sand.
When I approached carelessly and alarmed them, they made a sudden plash and rippling with their tails, as if one had struck the water with a brushy bough, and instantly took refuge in the depths.
They came into the road not far behind him, out of rock-strewn, brushy wilderness that sloped up steeply to the rugged sides of Gold Gap mountains. Sunfish discovered them first, and gave Bud warning just before they identified him and began to shoot. Bud laid himself along the shoulder of his horse with a handful of mane to steady him while he watched his chance and fired back at them.
It was a test of his own might and endurance against the cruel elements and a power beyond mere physical strength came to his aid. They forced their way through the evergreen thickets of the river bank, walking up the stream toward the ford. He broke through the brushy barriers with the might of his body; he made a trail for her in the snow. The darkness deepened around them.
Then Brushtail began to sing: "Great flying Bald Eagle caught a fish, And flew away to eat him; But down it fell through green treetops, And Brushy Fox will cheat him!" Brushtail finished his song and jumped for the fish. He jumped, of course, right into that loop Doctor Rabbit had made in the stout fishing cord.
They took the air and climbed steadily, circling until they had the altitude Johnny wanted. Then, swinging away toward Snake Ridge, they worked eastward. Johnny did not use the controls at all. He wanted all his mind for scanning the country spread out below them. Ridges, arroyos, brushy flats Johnny's eyes went over them all.
He's got the handsomest pair of antlers I've seen for years. I can sell that head of his for a good price." So the hunter tied his boat to a tree and once more climbed out. He climbed up the bank and studied the land. Across a wide meadow he could see a brushy old pasture and back of that some thick woods. He grinned. "That's where that Deer will head for," he decided.
Trout or milk immersed in this spring in a tin pail would keep sweet four or five days. One night some creature, probably a lynx or a raccoon, came and lifted the stone from the pail that held the trout and took out a fine string of them, and ate them up on the spot, leaving only the string and one head. In August bears come down to an ancient and now brushy bark-peeling near by for blackberries.
It was perfect, just like a moonshiner story or something. Speaking of smoke reminded Jack that he would have to lay in a supply of wood, which was some distance below the rock crest. Manzanita was the closest, and that was brushy stuff. He also told Marion gravely that he must do it before any snow came, or his tracks would be a dead give-away to the place.
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