In the Rocky Mountains: A Tale of AdventureKingston, William Henry Giles
General
In the Rocky Mountains: A Tale of Adventure
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Rocky Mountains -- Fiction
We had soon light enough to enable us to crawl off the branches to which
we had clung, and make our way down to the ground--if ground it could be
called, for, in reality, in every direction it was covered thickly with
logs in all stages of decay, some only lately fallen, others which could
be knocked to pieces with a kick, while the feet sank at almost every
step in decomposed vegetable matter. Still this was the region through
which, somehow or other, we must make our way.
After an hour's toil we reached a small open space, where the ground was
sufficiently hard to enable us to light a fire and dry our drenched
clothes and blankets. We had also to look to the priming of our rifles,
as they were likely to have got damp, and might fail us at a pinch.
Being unwilling to encamp in the forest altogether, though we all
greatly required rest, we resolved to push on until we could reach more
open ground where water was to be obtained.
To save my companions labour, as I was a more practised backwoodsman
than either of them, I offered to go ahead and try to find the shortest
way out of the forest. How far it might be, I could not tell; but I had
hopes that the forest in which we were might prove to be only a belt of
trees on the shore of the lake.
It did not occur to me as possible that my companions could miss my
trail. I shouted now and then, however, but did not hear their voices
in reply, the forest being so dense that sounds could not penetrate far
through it. I went on and on, feeling sure that I was directing my
course to the westward. The ground rose more and more, too, in some
places rather abruptly, but still covered with a dense growth of trees,
and soon I found that I was mounting a hill. The path was more easy than
at first, however, there being but few fallen trunks, so I made much
better progress.
"I must get out of this," at last I said to myself; and so I continued
moving on, occasionally notching a tree with my axe, if I thought my
trail was not sufficiently distinct. "Of course they will follow," I
thought more than once. I did not, indeed, entertain a doubt about it.
I had reached the top of the hill, but the trees were too high to enable
me to see any of the country around. I could judge by the direction of
the sun's rays, however,--which had now drawn round, and were striking
in my face,--that I was steering westward, as before. I occasionally
stopped and looked back, expecting that my friends would overtake me;
and although I did not see them, I felt so sure that they must be close
behind that I continued my course.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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