“And freeze to death, Mr. Tucket? They wouldn’t find us until spring—if then. We’re stopping to build a lean- to out of those willows and get a fire going. We’re stopping to eat—if you can find some meat around here somewhere—and we’re stopping to let this sun work on those beaver pelts for a spell. That take care of your question?”

Francis nodded, sliding from the mare. They cut the pelts loose and spread them, fur-side up to dry the moisture out of them. Then they tethered the horses, and Mr. Grimes took his knife and cut small willow poles for a shelter. Francis shouldered his rifle and ambled off in search of game.

They had been seeing rabbits all morning—jackrabbits in the open places, and cottontails in the brushy beds of streams. In only a few minutes he had got two of the bigger jackrabbits and was carrying them back to camp. There he found a cozy, three-sided bungalow waiting, with a roaring fire in front of it.

Mr. Grimes was standing near the fire, warming himself, and Francis smiled. It all looked like a picture his father had hung up in their barn back in Missouri. The picture showed an old lumberjack, in the middle of the woods, standing over a small fire warming his hands and grinning, while in the background, a bear was sneaking out of the lumberjack’s tent with a side of bacon.

“You’re sure grinning a lot, Mr. Tucket,” the mountain man said with a snort. “Especially for someone who couldn’t do any better than a couple of scruffy rabbits. I was sort of figuring on you bringing back an antelope or two …”

Francis told him about the picture in the barn, and Mr. Grimes snorted again.

“Must have been an eastern bear. Out here we’ve got grizzlies, at least up in the peaks. If a grizzly decided to take a side of bacon, he’d like as not take it over your body.” While he talked, he was dressing out the rabbits and spitting them over the fire. Before long, they were sizzling and hissing.

They ate quietly—the rabbit meat so tough Francis thought his moccasins might be easier to chew—and after polishing off both rabbits, Mr. Grimes gathered up some of the pelts for the lean- to while Francis led the horses to a clear spot nearby so they could graze.

The afternoon turned to dark early, and with the darkness they heaped wood on the fire and went to sleep, wrapped in beaver pelts.

The next morning they were up before the sun. By first light—still stiff and a bit cold—they were riding. They rode at a good clip most of the day. By late afternoon, Francis could see smoke on the horizon, and he pointed it out to Mr. Grimes.