A frying-pan, some salt
pork, and a hatchet, made up a light pack, which, with the bedding, I
fastened across the stock saddle by means of a rope and a spare packing
cinch. My cartridges and knife were in my belt; my compass and matches,
as always, in my pocket. I walked, while the little mare followed almost
like a dog, often without my having to hold the lariat which served as
halter.
The country was for the most part fairly open, as I kept near the
foot-hills where glades and little prairies broke the pine forest. The
trees were of small size. There was no regular trail, but the course was
easy to keep, and I had no trouble of any kind save on the second day.
That afternoon I was following a stream which at last "canyoned up,"
that is sank to the bottom of a canyon-like ravine impossible for a
horse. I started up a side valley, intending to cross from its head
coulies to those of another valley which would lead in below the canyon.
However, I got enmeshed in the tangle of winding valleys at the foot of
the steep mountains, and as dusk was coming on I halted and camped in
a little open spot by the side of a small, noisy brook, with crystal
water.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120