THE FIRST BIGHORN
After they had eaten, it was still the middle of the afternoon, and
Jack said to Hugh, "Hugh, why shouldn't we all set off and go down the
creek and help the Cliffords try their guns this afternoon? There is
plenty of time to do that before dark, and then if we have any chance
to hunt right soon those people will know something about where they
are shooting."
"No reason at all why we shouldn't do it. If you'll fetch in the saddle
horses, we'll start over and get the Cliffords now."
It took but a few moments to get the horses and saddle them. When the
suggestion was made to Mr. Clifford and Henry, they, too, saddled up,
and a few moments later the four were trotting down the trail.
In an open park, a couple of miles below the camp, Jack slashed the
bark from a tree trunk, making a target, and then, stepping off a
hundred yards, he said to Henry, "Now let me have your gun and I will
fire three or four sighting shots, so that I can find out just how to
hold it, and then you can shoot, and very few shots will tell you how
you ought to hold your gun to hit the mark, or, at least, to come very
close to it."
The shots fired by Jack showed him that, as is usually the case,
Henry's gun was sighted to shoot high, but by drawing the fore sight
down very fine, he put the last two shots within an inch and a half of
each other at the center of the target. Then he explained to Henry what
it was necessary for him to do; that he should draw the sight down,
so fine that only the tip of the foresight could be seen in the notch
of the rear sight; that he should not try to hold his rifle steadily
for a time on the target, but should aim at the center and should pull
the trigger just as the sight was about to pass over the center of the
target. After three or four shots, and comments and criticisms by Hugh
and Jack, Henry was able to bunch his bullets very close around the
center of the mark he was shooting at, and quickly came to understand
the process of handling the gun so that his bullets would go close to
where he wished them to.
After Henry had finished, Hugh took Mr. Clifford in hand, and he,
having had the benefit of seeing what his son had done, learned still
more easily what was required of him, and in a very few shots seemed to
have mastered the art of short-range rifle shooting, which is so often
very difficult of acquirement.
The sun was yet an hour high when they finished their work and,
mounting, rode back to the camp. The two boys galloped ahead, while
the older men followed, also riding fast. They had almost reached the
Clifford camp when Jack heard a dull sound, followed by a faint cry, a
sort of squall which he did not recognize. Instantly he pulled up his
horse and sat there listening, and in a moment Hugh and Mr. Clifford
had overtaken the boys and stopped. Jack called back, "Did you hear
that, Hugh? What was it?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "I heard something, and I suspect our dead-fall is
sprung, and sprung by some animal, too."
"That's what it sounded like to me. That heavy noise was something
falling. Let's ride up there and see what it is."
They pushed on by the camps, and presently came in sight of the
dead-fall and could see that the fall-log had dropped. A moment later
Jack saw a little bear on the hillside, which sat up and looked for a
moment, and then ran away into the timber. When they had come close
to the dead-fall they saw the fall-log lay across the body of a bear,
and, dismounting at a little distance, they approached it. The bear was
a large female, and the dead-fall had fallen across its shoulders and
apparently broken the neck.
"I don't understand this, Hugh," said Jack. "The log ought to have
struck her farther back. She could not reach the bait from this
position. Could she have touched the bait and then jumped back while
the log was falling?"
"No, son," said Hugh. "This bear did not spring the trap." As he spoke,
he stepped over the fall-log and entered the pen, and after looking
about a moment he turned and said, "She had a cub with her, and the
cub pushed in ahead and got hold of the bait and sprung the trap just
in time to catch the old one." Then he pointed out to the others the
tracks made by the little bear, and showed how it had grasped the bait,
pulled it to one side, and then, frightened by the noise of the falling
log, had bolted out of the pen.
"I only see tracks of one cub," said Hugh, "but very likely there may
have been two. Did you see more than the one as we came up, son?" he
asked Jack.
"No," answered Jack, "I saw only one."
"Well," said Hugh, "let us get this bear out and skin it if we can
before dark, and set the trap again. We're likely to catch another bear
to-night."
All hands took hold of the fall-log, lifted it off the bear, and then
propped it up and hauled the bear out in front of the pen.
"Now," said Hugh, "it's going to be a job to skin this bear, and unless
we all take hold of it we can't get it done to-night. If we leave it
here, and the bears come down to the trap again, they will eat it up,
and we'll lose the hide, and very likely they won't go into the trap.
What do you say, Mr. Clifford?" turning to the Englishman. "Are you
willing to lend a hand to skin this bear?"
"Why, yes," said Mr. Clifford, after a moment's hesitation. "I shall be
glad to. We came out into this country to gain new experience, and we
may as well take part in all the work that presents itself."
"All right," said Hugh, "let's go at it right now. And Jack, son,"
he went on, "you go down to our camp and get the beaver knives and
whetstones, and then go down to Mr. Clifford's camp and get Jones to
come here and help."
Jack turned his horse and rode off without a word. Hugh called out to
him, "Bring the ax with you when you come back." Jack signed that he
understood, and went on.
When he returned with Jones, the bear had been slit and the three
companions were hard at work at it, the Englishmen working very slowly
and clumsily, and Hugh very quickly. When Jack and Jones took hold,
the work proceeded much more rapidly, and just about sunset the last
cuts were made, and the hide freed from the carcass. Then Hugh had
everyone take hold and pull the body of the bear back into the very end
of the pen beyond the bait, and then all hands went to work and reset
the trap. The bear hide was rolled up and thrown across Jack's saddle,
and he led the snorting Pawnee down to the camp, while Henry and Jones
walked on either side, holding the hide in place.
"You men had better stop and eat with me," said Hugh. "Our grub is
getting pretty low; we haven't anything but bread and bacon and coffee,
but to-morrow, if nothing happens, we shall have some fresh meat."
The conversation that evening was much about bears, Mr. Clifford and
his son asking a multitude of questions, to which Hugh replied as
best he could. Mr. Clifford seemed to have an absorbing thirst for
knowledge, and never grew weary of asking Hugh questions about the
country and its life and the ways of its inhabitants.
Before the English party went to their camp, Hugh said, "Now, I think,
to-morrow, as soon as we get done with whatever work we may find,
we'd better move on up the creek and see if we can get into the high
mountains where there's game. We're plumb out of meat, and then, I
reckon, you all would like a day or two of hunting. We can kill some
meat and dry some of it, and then I expect Mr. Clifford and his folks
will go on down Grand River, and we'll come back and go down toward
Middle Park by way of the Rabbit Ears."
Everybody seemed to think that to go hunting would be very pleasant,
but Mr. Clifford made no reply to the suggestion that they would go
down Grand River.
The round of the traps next morning yielded only one beaver and a
couple of mink.
"Well, son," said Hugh, "I reckon there's not much more for us here in
the way of fur, and we'll get this beaver skinned early and move on up
the creek, unless we have a bear, and about that we'll know in a few
moments now."
They rode over to the skinning place, and from that looked down on the
bear trap. It was sprung, but when they went down, there was nothing
in it. The beaver which had served as bait, however, was gone, and a
considerable part of the old bear was eaten. There were fresh tracks
and other sign all about, showing that several bears had been in the
pen during the night.
"It's those durned cubs," said Hugh. "They come in here and pull at the
bait and spring the trap and then get scared and run away, and later
the bigger bears come down and eat the bait. I don't know that we'll
do anything more with this trap, and, any way, it won't pay to set it
just as we're going away. If we were going to be near enough so that we
could come down here every day and look at it, it would be different;
but it's quite a long ride up to the pass, and if we're going to hunt,
we won't feel much like riding down here."
Before they had finished skinning the beaver, the Cliffords had come up
the hill, and after the work was over Hugh and Jack took them down to
the bear trap and explained the situation. Then Hugh proposed that they
should all pack up and start up the stream for the pass, and before
noon the pack train, now more than doubled in numbers, was climbing
toward the summit.
It was a delightful ride through the green timber, with frequent
glimpses of the brawling stream, which grew constantly smaller,
steeper, and more noisy. Hugh led the way, followed by a couple of
horses, and the strangers rode among the pack animals, each with one
or more of the horses in front of him. Jack brought up the rear,
having been told to do so by Hugh, and kept watch of the trail and of
the animals ahead of him. Hugh had thought that they might reach the
pass before night, but in this he was mistaken. The sun had already
disappeared behind the overshadowing mountains when they reached a
little level opening in the timber, and here Hugh turned aside and
declared that they would camp. Just as he was about to swing himself
out of the saddle, a white-tailed deer walked out from a bunch of
willows along the stream and stood looking curiously at the strange
visitors, and Hugh, slipping a cartridge into his gun, shot at it, and
it fell. It proved to be a yearling doe, and was in good order. Before
Hugh had returned with the meat and the hide, camp had been made, the
tents were up, and the fires going and the horses short picketed on the
grass. There were many hands, and the work went quickly.
The night was cold, and all hands were early astir and clustered about
the fire. There was frost on the grass, on the willows, and on the
horses' manes. The ropes were frozen, and there was a skim of ice over
the quiet water of the pool in front of the camp. As the sun rose,
however, everything warmed up; the frost melted, the high grass and
willow bushes began to drip with moisture, and the ropes to dry; and,
after the sun had been shining for an hour or two, the horses were
packed and the train started out again.
It was interesting to Jack and to the English boy to notice in the
shaded spots how the beautiful summer flowers, that they had so much
admired the day before, were wilted and cut down by the frost, but
in the open spaces where the sun shone on them the flowers seemed
to speedily recover and once more held up their heads. As the train
proceeded, the valley became more narrow and rough, and the impetuous
force of the stream, which was now only a brook, increased. Sometimes
it fell down in a sheer cascade for ten or fifteen feet, and at such
points the trail left the stream and wound about in the timber,
zig-zagging up the hill until the ascent was overcome, when it returned
near to the water's edge. Some of the slopes were steep and some seemed
dangerous, places where a misstep by the horse might throw the rider
down forty or fifty feet into the stream below. One or two of the
horses, whose packs, though light, were bulky and stood up high above
the saddle, looked, as they climbed the steep places, as if they must
be overbalanced by their load and fall backward.
To Mr. Clifford and his son this method of traveling was absolutely
novel and at first really alarming. Neither said anything, however,
but watched Hugh and Jack. They saw that these two rode along
unconcernedly, and from this inferred that the danger was more apparent
than real.
At last the valley through which they were traveling became a mere
gorge, and at length, after climbing a few hundred feet up a very steep
slope, they found themselves at the edge of the large timber. The view
here was something to make even Jack catch his breath, accustomed as he
was to mountain scenery. Before them lay a gently rising alpine meadow,
intersected by ravines, in which a few stunted spruces flourished,
and then above this was a wide amphitheater surrounded on all sides
by rugged and towering rock summits. The floor of the amphitheater
sloped smoothly down to a brook which flowed through its midst, and
this brook came from a lake lying far above among the snow fields, from
which, in turn, it drew its waters. Along the brook were low willows
for a little distance, and then the altitude proved too much for them,
and only grass grew. On the left-hand side, for several thousand feet
above them, rose bare rocks streaked with vertical lines of red and
yellow, while off to the south was the pass, showing as a deep sag two
or three thousand feet below the general crest of the mountains, and
up to this sag the amphitheater which they were entering rose with a
gradual ascent. On the south and west side of the pass the mountains
rose to a great height, terminating in a confused mass of rocks, from
which three slender pinnacles towered toward the sky. The open meadow
which they were now crossing was carpeted with soft, green grass, and
with an astonishing profusion of flowers, red, yellow, blue, purple;
columbines, harebells, asters, and a multitude of other flowers grew
here, or higher up, close to and even among the snow banks. It was a
wild-flower garden such as perhaps few people except those who have
traveled in the high mountains have ever seen.
As they climbed higher and approached the pass, the ascent became
steeper, and presently a cool breeze swept down the mountain side,
showing that they were nearing the pass. A few hundred feet more of
climbing and they reached the summit, where they halted to rest and
look down on the lower land before and behind them. In front, to the
south and east, they could see a great part of Middle Park and of the
rugged and broken mountains which surrounded it. Almost at their feet
a little lake nestled in the mountains. A few hundred feet below,
the north fork of Grand River takes its rise and flows down through
the narrow, wooded gorge, whose length they saw as far as the plains
of Middle Park. High above, to the right, in a saddle, was a huge
snowdrift, whose melting waters flowed from one extremity into the
stream they had been ascending, and so on into the North Platte, and
into the Missouri River; while from the other end another stream leaped
out to join Grand River, which after a long course joins the Green to
form that mighty stream of the West, the Colorado River, and so to
reach the Pacific.
Looking backward the whole course of the Michigan lay before them, and
away beyond it the gray sagebrush flats of North Park, with here and
there a little lake gleaming in the sun like a bit of burnished silver.
"Great show, isn't it, Henry?" said Jack.
"Yes," said the English boy. "It is a marvelous view."
They had no time for further talk, for Hugh had started his horse down
the pass on the other side, and following an old game trail he rode by
the little lake until he reached the first few spruces that grew on
that side of the range. Here camp was made, and as there were still a
few hours of daylight, Jack proposed to Henry that they should climb up
on the high mountains to the north and east of camp.
"I don't know how long Hugh will want to stay," he said to Henry, "but
we better make the most of our time. If we can get up pretty high we
may see a sheep or possibly a bull elk, and I guess you'd like a shot
at either one, wouldn't you?"
"Indeed, I would," said Henry.
The boys started out, breasting the steep, rocky slope with courage.
After climbing to a point a few hundred feet above the level of the
pass, all vegetation disappeared except a gray lichen which clung
to the rocks which were scattered everywhere over the ground. The
mountainside was very steep. The loose rocks did not always give a firm
foothold, and at that altitude the air was so rare that the boys were
frequently obliged to stop and take breath. A cold wind had sprung
up, but by the time they had reached the summit they were wet with
perspiration. Jack quickly led the way to the lee of a huge mass of
rock, and here, sheltered from the wind, the boys reclined and basked
in the warm sunshine. Nearby was the edge of a tall precipice which
almost overhung the camp, and going to the edge the two looked over,
trying to guess how far they were above the camp. They could see a man
in the camp, but could not recognize him, and the horses scattered in a
little meadow seemed very small.
"Well," said Jack, "this isn't hunting. Come on;" and turning to one
side, he struck off along the ridge of the mountain, followed by Henry.
This ridge was smooth, rounded, and undulating, though constantly
ascending. To the left was a deep, wide valley, in which grew many
low willows, where Jack felt sure must be ptarmigan, while to the
right were far-stretching mountains, most of them pine-covered and
dark green, but one or two bristling with dead timber, whose white and
weather-worn trunks gleamed and shone when touched by the sun. Jack saw
a lot of things that he would have been glad to point out to Henry,
but if they were to hunt, they must be about it. For some distance
nothing was seen except a single little bird, which walked about the
rocks, and then, as it was approached, rose on wing and flew a little
further on, only to rise again. Now and then, from the rocks which lay
on either side of the ridge, the plaintive cry of the little chief hare
was heard. At one place Jack saw some freshly shed white feathers,
which showed that some ptarmigan had passed by not long before, but he
merely pointed to them with his hand as he passed them.
Presently, however, as the boys were crossing a little saddle, Jack
noticed in some loose sand the tracks of two mountain sheep. He
followed them carefully, going very slowly as he came to each ridge,
but for some time saw nothing of the animals. Then, presently, on
raising his head slightly over a ridge, he saw, almost on the crest
of the next ridge, a ewe walking along, and a moment later a good ram
came in sight following her. As he saw them he crouched down lower and
lower, motioning with his hand to his companion to imitate his actions.
The sheep stopped on the crest of the ridge, and looked about them
and then passed on, unfrightened. As they disappeared, Jack slowly
arose, first to his knees and then to his feet, and whispered to Henry,
"Come on, now, here's a chance for a shot." They ran as hard as they
could across the little hollow and up the slope where the sheep had
just passed. As they approached the ridge, Jack slackened his pace a
little, and falling back beside Henry, said, "You'll probably get a
shot from this ridge. Go slowly now; get control of your wind, if you
can; remember to shoot low down and just behind the foreshoulder. Low
down, I tell you, and don't forget how to look through your sights. Now
go carefully. I'll go ahead and take the look, and you load your gun
and follow. Do just what you see me do." Jack approached the crest with
extreme caution, for he was anxious that Henry should get a shot. It
was well that he did so, for the sheep had paused in the little hollow
beyond and were only now climbing the next hill, and scarcely seventy
yards away. Jack threw himself flat on the ground and motioned Henry
up beside him, and then whispered, "Take the ram, the one with the big
horns. You have plenty of time; don't make any sudden motions, and wait
a moment. They may stop." Lying full length on the ground, resting
his elbows on it, Henry leveled his rifle, and a moment later the ram,
which was behind, turned aside to nibble some bit of vegetation and
gave a broadside shot. "Now," said Jack. "Remember, low down, and let
him have it." A moment later the gun cracked, the ram plunged forward,
and both sheep ran quickly over the ridge.
"By Jove, I believe you got him. I know he was hit, and I think hit
right," and they raced along.
"Oh," said Henry, as they pantingly staggered up the slope, "I'm afraid
I didn't hit him. My gun kept moving around so; but when I pulled the
trigger, I thought it was moving toward the right spot, and I knew I
never could hold it still."
As they topped the ridge, Jack saw lying among the rocks below them
something brown and curved, which he was sure was one of the ram's
horns.
"Hurrah!" he yelled, and they plunged down among the broken stones,
leaping from one to another like a pair of young goats. Jack was much
more active among the rocks than Henry, and reached the ram first. It
was quite dead, for the bullet had gone just to the right spot, and
through the great beast's heart.
When Henry came up, Jack shook his hands in cordial congratulation, and
then, drawing his butcher knife, prepared to bleed the ram.
"My," he said, "but we've got a job now. You and I can never carry this
animal into camp. We'll have to take what we can, and come up here
to-morrow with help. Possibly we can get a pack horse up here, though
I doubt it. I know we can't get one up the way we came, but there may
be some other road. Well, come on," he continued, "we've got no time
to fool; it will be dark in a couple of hours, and we must hurry." As
they were at work removing the animal's entrails, Jack said, "Now, what
shall we try to carry back?"
"Oh, Jack," said Henry, "whatever we leave here, let us take the head
with us. I would not lose that for anything. Just think, it's the
first sheep I ever saw, the first I ever shot at, and the first I ever
killed. I do want to take that in and show it to my governor. My, won't
he be delighted!"
"Well," said Jack, "if we carry the head we can't carry anything else.
That head as it is, without any of the neck, will weigh not less than
forty or fifty pounds, and we've got quite a way to go. Moreover, it's
such an unhandy thing that we can't both of us carry it. We've got to
spell each other."
"Let's try to take it, anyhow, Jack," said Henry.
"All right," said Jack, "we'll try," and cutting the skin of the neck
low down to breast and shoulders, the boys quickly skinned away the
hide from the flesh, cutting the head off at the first joint.
"Now," said Jack, "we must start back."
He took a red silk handkerchief out of his pocket, and putting it on
the top of a high rock close to the sheep, placed a stone on the corner
in such a way that when the breeze blew the handkerchief would flutter
almost over the sheep's carcass. "That may keep away the eagles and the
magpies," he said. Then he gave both rifles to Henry, handed him the
sheep's liver to carry in his other hand, and, hoisting the sheep's
head on his back, set out on the return to camp. Half a dozen times on
the return journey the two boys changed loads, but at last they reached
the end of the ridge and could look down on the camp. By a little
search they found an easier place to go down than that by which they
had ascended, and Jack thought that still further to the right he saw a
still easier way, one up which a pack horse could perhaps be led.
The sun had already hidden itself behind the western mountains when
the two tired boys reached camp. Jack, who had the ram's head on his
shoulders, dropped it to the ground with a groan of relief, and said,
"Well, Henry, I don't know who else I would have done this for."
The story of their success was soon told, and Mr. Clifford was
delighted with the trophy, while Hugh praised Henry's shot and
prophesied that he would become a good hunter. Henry told the story of
his shot, of the hopes and fears connected with it, and of his final
despair as the ram rushed off, and then of the rebound of his spirits
at Jack's declaration that he believed the ram had been hit. Altogether
it was a very pleasant evening.
After the talk had a little quieted down, and supper was being cooked
for the boys, Jack asked Hugh, "Where does this meat come from, Hugh?"
"Why," said Hugh, "Mr. Clifford and I went out and took a little walk,
and he killed a good fat bull elk. We're going out to get the meat in
the morning."
"Well," said Jack, "this seems to be a great day for the Clifford
family," a remark which both Mr. Clifford and his son seemed to find
very amusing, for they shouted with laughter at it.
The next morning Hugh and Mr. Clifford, with one of the pack horses,
went off to bring in the bull, while Jack, Henry, and Jones, with
another animal, climbed the ridge to get the ram.
On their way back the two boys were fortunate enough to come upon a
little brood of ptarmigan, the young now almost full grown and the
mother beginning to be touched with white on various parts of her body.
The little birds were quite tame, and permitted a near approach, but at
length one after another they flew away, pitching down the mountainside
with the high-pitched cackle that this bird always utters.
That afternoon the boys were too tired to go out and hunt, and Mr.
Clifford seemed satisfied with his success of the day before. The next
day, however, Jack and Henry climbed the mountains on the other side of
the pass. They soon found themselves among peaks much higher and more
rugged and difficult than they had yet seen. They found some sheep and
were endeavoring to stalk them when, without any warning, a blanket
of white fog settled down over the mountain top, hiding the sheep and
everything else, except things very close at hand. They tried to get a
little closer to the sheep, but the fog was so dense and so confusing
that Jack put a veto on their moving, and they sat there waiting for
the fog to lift. Curious sounds were constantly coming to them from the
mountainside. Rattling of rocks, calls of birds and of small mammals,
and other sounds which they could not recognize. Once the fog lifted
for a little, and Jack thought he saw standing at a distance three
rams. He stared to see whether they actually were rams or only small
rifts in the fog, and then before he could determine, the mist shut
down again and blotted them out. As the boys sat there, there was
a whirl of wings in the air, and presently all about them alighted
curious little birds with gray crowns, brown bodies, and rosy breasts,
active, noisy, and constantly searching for food among the rocks, while
they constantly uttered a shrill, musical whistle.
After a while Henry seemed to tire of this inaction, and said to Jack,
"What are we going to do, Jack? Can't we go on?"
"Why, yes," said Jack, "we can go on, but where do you want to go?"
"Why," said Henry, "let's keep on hunting, or if we can't hunt, let's
go to camp."
"Well," said Jack, "where do you want to hunt, and what are you going
to hunt when you can't see much more than arm's length ahead of you?
Anything you might come near would be certain to see you before you saw
it, and one jump would take it out of sight. A man's got to have the
use of his eyes if he's going to hunt, and in this fog we haven't the
use of ours. Moreover, we can't go back to camp, because we don't know
where camp is, at least I don't. I think it's in one direction, but
I'm not sure. Where do you think it is?" he said.
"It's over there," said Henry, pointing.
"Well," said Jack, "I think it's over there," and he pointed almost
exactly in the opposite direction. But he went on, "Even if we knew
just where it is, I don't want to stir around much on the side of this
mountain while the fog is as thick as it is. It would be easy enough
for a fellow to tumble over the edge of a cliff and break some of his
bones, and if he did that the other people in his party wouldn't have a
very good time, would they?"
"No," said Henry, "I don't think they would; but is there any danger?"
"I don't know that there's any real danger," said Jack, "but I don't
think it's worth while to run any risks unless there's something to be
gained by doing it."
"No," said Henry, "I suppose not, but I hate to sit here doing nothing."
"So do I," agreed Jack; "I hate it just as badly as you do, I guess;
but I think it's better to do that than to do something that might make
a whole lot of trouble for all of us. Hugh has been preaching patience
to me for the last five years, and though I haven't learned very fast,
I've got it partly learned, I think; and I know it's best for us to
sit here until this fog lifts, or until we get some idea of where we'd
better go."
They sat there for quite a long time, and then gradually the fog grew
brighter, and presently slowly rolled away from them and up the cliffs
toward the peak, and the sun shone over the mountainside. Jack crawled
out from the shelter of the rock and scanned the peaks above him for
sheep, but could see nothing, and as it was well on toward the middle
of the afternoon, he told Henry that they had better go to camp.
Hugh and Mr. Clifford had also been out climbing for sheep, and had
also been overtaken by the fog, but as they had not been so high up as
the boys, it did not stop them so long. No game had been killed. Jones
had been busy all day long drying the flesh of the elk, which Hugh had
shown him how to cut into thin flakes and hang out in the sun and wind.
That afternoon Hugh took Jack apart and told him that they would do
well to return down the Michigan and continue their journey toward
Middle Park, and Jack assented.
"I like these English folks," said Hugh, "and if they were going our
way, we'd be well pleased to have them travel with us, but we certainly
are not going their way, and can't follow them. If they feel like
turning 'round and coming back with us, I'll say 'come.'"
Later in the afternoon, as they were sitting around the campfire,
Hugh said, "Well, Mr. Clifford, son and I calculated to start back
to-morrow. We want to go on down into Middle Park, and maybe get a
little more fur, and if, as I understand, you're going down this creek
here and going to Middle Park that way, why, we've got to separate."
For a moment after Hugh had spoken there was silence, and then Mr.
Clifford spoke rather slowly and hesitatingly, and said, "Mr. Johnson,
we have greatly enjoyed the few days that we have been with you and
your young friend, and in that short time both my son and myself have
seen more and learned more about this western country than we ever
could have done in any other way. We would take it as a great favor if
you would permit us to turn around and travel back with you. We value
your company very highly, and if we might go with you, it would be a
great favor to us, and one for which I should be willing to pay well.
Of course, I understand that if we were with you, you would not be so
free as if you were alone; that we would take up some of your time;
that we might interfere with your trapping arrangements, and taking
all that into consideration, I should be glad to pay any reasonable sum
per day for the privilege of camping with you."
For a moment or two Hugh said nothing, and then he spoke and said, "Mr.
Clifford, son here and I like you all very much, and it's a pleasure to
us to have you around. If you feel like turning back with us, we'll be
glad to have you. We are not out here traveling around in the mountains
altogether as a matter of business. It's partly for pleasure, although,
of course, we have been trapping and we expect to sell the fur that we
may get. If you feel like turning around and coming back with us, we'd
be glad to have you do so. I don't reckon there need be any question of
paying for anybody's time. We like to have you about, and as long as we
keep on feeling that way, you better come. If we should disagree about
anything, why, then we could stop and separate any time."
"We are very much obliged to you," said Mr. Clifford. "You have done us
a great favor. If at any time you should feel that you and your young
friend prefer to be alone, tell me and we will leave you at once."
Bright and early the next morning the little train was packed, and by
afternoon it had reached the old camp where the bear trap stood. The
train was stopped, and all four men rode up to look at the trap. Bears
had been there in numbers, and of the old carcass that had been left in
the pen, nothing was left except a few gnawed bones.
"If we had time to fool with them," said Hugh, "we could get another
bear or two here, but I don't reckon it's worth while. Let's go on and
get down the creek as far as we can to-night."
They hurried on, crossed the broad beaver meadow of the Michigan before
dark, and camped on the other side.