The sun was not yet up, but in the sky were bars of red that reached high above the mountains, and by this light he saw the watcher, face down upon the rocks, asleep. Nature, his god, had commanded, and he obeyed. Jess smiled, then noiselessly sat down to wait. Noon came. The sheriff ate part of his lunch, lit his pipe, and settled back for a longer wait. He felt an infinite relief to see this strange man sleeping, for in his gruff make-up had grown a concern for the mountaineer approaching affection. Now he swore softly to himself that, even though Potter should come, he would let him pass rather than wake Dale. But also during the morning his interest had been held by another thing. Idly facing the east, his gaze wandering over the scarred knobs or their wooded crests, he had gradually become aware of an occasional movement on a spur far up the side of Snarly. Squinting his eyes he could distinctly make out something, but whether it were man or beast he could not be sure. Certainly it moved more as a restless bear whose cub, doubtless unable to master the climb, whined somewhere below. He turned this over in his mind. It was three o'clock when Dale stirred. The sheriff smiled as he watched Nature gradually remove her bandage from the sleeper, who now, instantly awake, sprang up in dismay. "Gawd! What time is it?" Jess held out his watch. "I must a-slept eighteen hours," the mountaineer gasped, as though such a thing were scarcely in the range of possibility. "An' real glad I am, too, Dale! We ain't lost nothin' by it, an' it's done you a heap of good. Here's a bite to eat!" Dale attacked it ravenously, then took a deep breath and stretched. "I feel like a catamount! Come on, Jess--where'll we hunt?" "I was jest thinkin'! Whilst you slept, I seen somethin' looked like a bar up on that-ar spur!" Dale wheeled and watched the place for several minutes. "I don't see nothin'," he said, at last. "'Cause it ain't been over to our side yet, that's why! But it's thar, all right--or, leastwise, it was thar!" "Jess," the mountaineer spoke quickly, "last spring I saw him there, too. Come on! Maybe--but I don't reckon it could be, if you thought it was a bear!" "I don't neither; but thar ain't no tellin'! It's 'bout the only place we _ain't_ been! I'll tie the dawg heah, so's if it is a b'ar he won't git cut up none!" After a hard two-hour climb they reached a ledge seeming to run on a level with the spur, followed it a few hundred feet and, cautiously parting the branches, looked out. There was still too much foliage to permit them to see, and they crept nearer; this time coming to the base of the spur itself. But Jess, who was slightly in advance, drew back and silently cocked his rifle--an act which any mountaineer would rightfully interpret as a command for absolute silence. Together, now, they edged forward.