Sam set off to look for firewood. Cindy went off in the opposite direction to do the same. Firewood collecting was the perfect excuse for wandering through the woods, far from the smoke of the kindling fire. She had all the fondness for that campfire that one might expect from a buck or a bear. If it is a human characteristic to find comfort in a fire, then a dog might have felt more human than Cindy next to that campfire. There was a deep mistrust of fire within her; an instinctive, intuitive sense of its capriciousness and volatility, and a grave capacity. The boys had set up camp near their fire ring, thinking they’d let Cindy sleep in the tent, but Cindy took her sleeping bag far out into the darkness among the sparse pines. After bedding down, Armen got up, and searched her out.
He soon came back and grabbed his bag. “I guess I’ll be up there,” he notified Sam, and he carried his bag out into the darkness.
Cindy didn’t seem to need Armen there with her. She was comfortable enough outdoors. Without all the combustion of the modern household and the modern street, she felt at ease; especially at night, when the montane world enjoyed a peaceful respite from the solar temptations of fire. She could leave the fireside to the boys and they’d understand.
Even here, over a mile above the Sink, the morning did not break with a chill. Cindy and Armen woke up with their bags unzipped and peeled open. Sam brought them scrambled eggs and toast that had been prepared by the fire. Armen took his breakfast back to camp, and joined Sam there. Sam scraped the pans into the fire, purified more water, and doused what was left of it.
Trail Sign, Trout Meadows
They secured the camp against critters and headed up the trail with light loads, to look for some sign of recent cattle activity. By noon, they decided to turn back, break camp, and proceed in the other direction, toward Burnt Corral Meadow. Once they got there, there wasn’t much grass to be seen, so though they were running out of daylight, they continued on to Round Meadow and made camp in the dark.
The next morning, they found their first fresh cow chip, so they chose to set out with light gear and see what they could find in the vicinity of round meadow. There was still long grass in the meadow, so they hoped to find Walker nearby.
It wasn’t long at all before Cindy spotted tracks—horse and dog tracks—not far from the trail. They followed the tracks, losing them here and there and regaining them. Cindy seemed to have a knack for it. Her eyes roamed the woods like wolves—they did not wander like dogs. He avoided them. They were the eyes of a predator, and they seemed to pull him in if he looked directly at them, though Cindy didn’t seem to ever intend it. She didn’t seem interested in drawing anyone to her, yet Sam couldn’t help but imagine that something within her was intent on him.
After several hours of tracking, not far from the river, they heard a dog bark. “That must be Buck,” Armen declared with relief. A little while later, they heard a guitar and caught a whiff of smoke, but the day was mostly behind them. They were going to have to backtrack to get their packs. That wouldn’t leave time to get back to Walker’s camp by nightfall, but they would have time to say hello and let him know they’d be back come morning. They continued to the cowboy’s camp, and stopped in for a quick hello.
The cowboy and his dog were pleased to have their company. Buck barked a warning at first, then he ran out to welcome them. They walked into camp a minute later.
“Hey! What do we have here?” Walker said as he put his guitar aside and stood up.
When the cowboy got a closer look at Cindy, he paused and refrained with emphasis, “What do we have here?”
“This is my sister Cindy” Armen answered.
“You sure you two are related?” the cowboy asked, and then winked.
“She’s our tracker.” Sam added. “She helped us find you.”
“Indeed” Walker replied, almost as though to himself. “And what a pleasant surprise. I can’t say I saw this comin’.”
And so it went on, and longer than they’d planned. At last, they filled their canteens and turned back toward Round Meadow, tracking landmarks as darkness descended.