It was a most astonishing set of double impressions.
We succeeded in killing a nice, fat white-tail buck, and so returned to camp happy.

The rain, held off.

We dug ditches, organised shelters, cooked a warm meal.

For the next day we planned a bear hunt afoot, far up a manzanita canon where Uncle Jim knew of some "holing up" caves.
But when we awoke in the morning we threw aside our coverings with some difficulty to look on a ground covered with snow; trees laden almost to the breaking point with snow, and the air filled with it.
"No bear today" said the Cattleman.
"No," agreed Uncle Jim drily.

"No b'ar.