Earlier in the day Wade had passed going toward the mountain in search of game. Later on he was blazing his way, with the barrel of his rifle, through the thick underbrush down the mountain side. He had got into entire new territory, and sometimes it became necessary for him to crawl through, so thick was the brush. Other times he merely pushed aside the low-hanging limbs with his gun, finally emerging from the thicket into the open space. When space would allow he straightened himself out, then his back ached and his hands and knees were very sore. Suddenly he caught the sound of a disturbed rabbit as it flitted out from its snug nest beneath the shrub. Jack looked quickly in that direction, in time to see it crossing the ravine too far away to shoot. As he walked on there came to his listening ears the shrill whistle of a mountain quail as it sang out its note of warning to its hidden mate near. Wade started off in the direction whence the call of the quail came, but after walking some distance gave up the search and stood still. A dead silence prevailed. Before him was the clear running stream, behind him a wild waste of mountain. Down to the stream's edge he walked, and sat down to rest his tired, weary, sore limbs. The sun was now setting behind the western hills, the soft gentle twilight was drooping over the mountain and valley; still Wade sat, dangling his feet over a precipice, gazing down through the gathering mist into the gleaming waters below, watching them as they went dancing gleefully over the rocks, sending their sparkling, silvery spray high into the air, falling again like silver bubbles. When the dark shadows swooped down and the day was no more, he still sat. When the golden moon rose above the towering mountain, dispelling the hideousness of a lonesome, dark night, he was still sitting in the same spot, dangling his heels against the solid embankment. Across his limbs lay his rifle, his right hand protecting it, while his chin rested firmly in his left hand, which was supported at the elbow by his left leg. Thus he sat silent, no sound save that of the rippling waters of the little running brook breaking the stillness of the night.