Hunting -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- West (U.S.); West (U.S.) -- Description and travel
I reloaded, went back to the bloody trail, and found the deer dead about
thirty yards ahead. I broke it up, skinned it, and placed the rump and
bits of the liver before the fire which I lit, while Trusty had the
kidneys and then amused himself with the shoulder blades. I stretched
the skin out before the fire, as I intended to take it with me to sleep
on. I enjoyed my breakfast, to which I ate but little of the salt I
carried in my bag in a bladder in case of need. Trusty had also eaten
heartily and pacified his hunger. I cut some good lumps off the deer's
back, filled my flask with fresh water, and set out once more, still
hoping to reach the river. I walked up hill and down, having on my left
the lofty mountain ranges, and in front of me a sea of rocks whose end I
could not see. I was accustomed to such scenes of solitude, still I now
greatly felt what a difference there is in looking down from the back of
a stout horse on the desert and having to cross the enormous tracks on
foot. The only anxiety that oppressed me was the agony my comrades must
be feeling about me, as they would naturally suppose that some accident
had happened to me. I knew they would not quit these mountains till they
were certain of my fate, and I listened continually for signal shots. I
dared not fire them for fear of expending my ammunition, and it would
have been unnecessary, as they would certainly not neglect this method
of showing me the road to them.
The day passed without my hearing the echo of a shot, and the sun was
rather low when I reached a small stream whose banks were both rather
thickly covered with wood. I resolved to spend the night here, as I had
wood and water, and was protected from the weather, which had got up
rather fiercely since the afternoon, I looked for a suitable spot,
carried wood to a fallen tree, and was about to light my fire, when I
looked up at the hill before me and felt a desire to take a look from
it at the valley beyond to see whether the long looked-for river was
there. It was still early, the sun had not yet set, and though I was
tolerably tired I set out. I walked up a steep gorge into which several
narrow passes opened on both sides; it was covered with several large
masses of rock and loose stones, and the nearer I got to the top the
narrower it grew, and the steeper were the precipices enclosing it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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