At first, in her excitement, time flew by.

Gradually, however, as the sun moved westward, she began to be restless.

The soft thud of dropping pine cones, the rustling of squirrels up and down the shaggy-barked spruces, the cracking of weathered bits of rock, these caught her keen ears many times and brought her up erect and thrilling.

Finally she heard a sound which resembled that of an unshod hoof on stone.
Stealthily then she took her rifle and slipped back through the pine thicket to the spot she had chosen.

The little pines were so close together that she had to crawl between their trunks.