CHAPTER XII.
November was well advanced before there came indications that winter was near at hand.
One morning, when Wade rode up to Moore's cabin, the whole world seemed obscured in a dense gray fog, through which he could not see a rod ahead of him.

Later, as he left, the fog had lifted shoulder-high to the mountains, and was breaking to let the blue sky show.

Another morning it was worse, and apparently thicker and grayer.

As Wade climbed the trail up toward the mountain-basin, where he hunted most these days, he expected the fog to lift.

But it did not.