The canyon was narrow at this point, both walls thickly forested and the creek rushing along a bed of boulders. It was familiar enough. Poke had traveled up the canyon several times over the years, most as a boy with Sett and his father. There should be a tributary coming in soon, and a little flat meadow just below a stand of rocks. Awareness of the movement happened in the instant of the boom. Poke's mount shied and he dove for his rifle in the scabbard just as the impact hit. The pack horse pulled back in fear, the saddle horse stumbled and Poke rolled off and kept rolling down the creek bank to rest in the berries.

SETTLER'S LAW, page 187