The air was delightfully crisp as the breezes began to pour out of the canyon down from the snowy peaks. It was a joy to be alive if only to drink deeply of the mountain ozone, sweet with the mingled fragrance of pines and flowers and grasses; the old stream seemed snappier and fresher than ever as Brownie splashed into its clear cold waters across the old ford. Nature was yet asleep. Only the whispering of the trees and the singing of the stream could be heard. But as they climbed the trail up the foothills, live things began to waken. First a sleepy “cheep-cheep” of some little songbird out of the streamside willows, then a far away yelping of the coyotes, and suddenly from under Brownie’s pattering feet an old sage hen sprang into the air with frightened clucking. A moment later the whole flock arose, shocking the stillness with their noises. By the time he had reached the hill crest before the old trapper’s home, the first streaks of day had appeared above the mountain, and the morning star, a spot of flaming silver against the sky, was melting in the reddening glow of the dawn. Old Tobe gave a sharp, challenging bark as Brownie’s feet rattled the gravel down the trail. “Who’s there?” called Uncle Dave from within the cabin as the boy rode up. “Fred Benton,” came the response; “I hope I haven’t disturbed you.” “No, come in; I was just crawlin’ out.” Fred tied his mare to a sapling and entered the cabin. “What brings you here so airly, boy?” asked the old man. “Oh, we have a day off to celebrate with the Mormons.” “Mormons?” Uncle Dave’s tone was curious. “Yes, it’s their Pioneer Day,--the day Brigham Young and his band entered Salt Lake Valley, and the colonists here are celebrating, so Cap Hanks gave us a day off to join in the fun.” “But you’re not joinin’ ’em?” “No, I don’t like some kinds of cowboy fun,” returned Fred frankly; “I thought I’d rather have another visit with you.” “That’s good of you, boy, to remember an old man,” responded Uncle Dave with a touch of feeling. “I’ll get a bite of breakfast; your ride has whetted your appetite, I reckon.” “This air would give anyone an appetite,” said Fred; “what can I do to help?” “You might get the fire going.” Fred stepped outside for wood and brought back with his armful a sack he had untied from his saddle. “Here’s something to help out,” he said, emptying half a dozen fine fish on to the table. “I had a good catch yesterday and thought you’d like some.” “Much obliged, boy; trout tastes good once in a while, and I ain’t took time to get any lately.” The breakfast preparations went on briskly. When all was ready, the old man said, “Now set up and be at home.” Then he offered his brief grace and they ate in silence for a few minutes.