In the Rocky MountainsKingston, William Henry Giles
General
In the Rocky Mountains
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Rocky Mountains -- Fiction
I approached as near to the edge of the cliff as I dared, thinking it
possible that my rifle and knapsack might have fallen on some ledge, or
perhaps been stopped in their downward progress by bushes; but, as far
as I could judge, the precipice was perpendicular, and they must have
fallen into the lakelet. I saw at once, therefore, that there was very
little chance of my being able to recover them; still that point could
not be decided until I got down to the level of the lake, when I might
ascertain its depth. If not very deep, I might perhaps be able to dive
to the bottom; but though naturally eager to make the attempt, I felt it
would be safest to do nothing in the matter until I was joined by my
friends.
I waited a short time for their coming up, but as they did not appear, I
thought it desirable to retrace my steps, in case they should have
missed their way, or lost sight of my trail. I accordingly went back,
shouting out to them; but it was not until I came to the spongy ground I
had passed, that I saw the probability of their having lost my trail and
gone in some other direction. In vain I searched for signs of them.
Should I return to where I parted from them, a long time might elapse
before we might meet; and my anxiety to try and recover my rifle and
knapsack forbade me doing this.
The day was advancing, and darkness would come on before I could get to
the shore of the lake, so I again turned and made my way over the
mountain till I got above the fall; from thence, with infinite labour
and at no little risk, I ultimately succeeded in reaching the level
ground. I had now to go round the base of the mountain in order to
reach the lake; but the distance was considerable, and I could scarcely
hope to reach it before nightfall. I felt, therefore, that it would be
prudent to look out for a spot for camping. A grove of trees of no
great extent was before me, and their trunks would afford shelter; but
what about a fire? My flint and steel I had incautiously left in my
knapsack, but I had a small burning-glass which one of our visitors at
the farm had given me. I had seldom made use of it, but I had put it in
my pocket, with the few valuables I possessed, on the night we left
Roaring Water. As the sun had disappeared, that, however, would be of
no use for the present; so I arrived at the unsatisfactory conclusion
that I must pass the night without food or fire.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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