Our camp site was at an elevation of at least seven thousand feet, and that night the water in our canteen and in our wash basin froze. We slept warm, however, as we know how cold it can get at night in these mountains, and so put on all the blankets. We also know how hot and dry and dusty it can get about noontime.
The next morning we strike the head of the creek and follow it down to the Sevier River. On the way we pass more grouse, and see deer and cat tracks, besides lots of prairie dogs and a variety of birds. The first few miles the road was good, but after we reached the stage road down in Sevier Valley, it was rough and dusty. We followed the valley down and stopped for lunch at the mouth of the Sevier River Canyon. The canyon is ten miles long and, while picturesque, is anything but pleasant to drive through, with three inches of dust in the road and a strong wind at your back. We camped for the night, before we got through the canyon, right on the river’s edge.
We had passed several freighters on the road from Marysvale; some of them had four horses and were pulling two wagons in regular freighter style. We have seen nothing of importance in the Sevier Valley so far but a ranch now and then, raising wild hay and cattle; not very much of either.
The horses are still doing pretty well. Kate has not quite regained her old form, but we work her half a day at a time. To-morrow we will put her in for all day as Dixie’s neck has finally grown so bad it must be rested.
A RANCH IN BEAR VALLEY
While in camp here on the river we saw a right neat piece of “cow-work” by a boy, not over fourteen years old, on an Indian pony. He came riding up the trail bareback, astride a dark cream colored pony, without halter or bridle, swinging his rope, and inquired if we had seen any cows up the canyon. We couldn’t remember, so he went on up, but presently he came back and, in reply to my inquiry as to whether he had found them, he said, “Yes, they are on the other side of the river,” and started down the bank of as swift and rocky a mountain stream as I have ever seen, although it was not very wide--probably two hundred feet. The pony slid over the rocks and into the water, which was about three feet deep. The current nearly threw her down, but she braced herself and started on, stepped into a hole and the water came up even with her back. The boy seemed to jump straight up and stand on her back, and as she clambered out into shallow water over the rocks on the other side, he just spread out his legs and dropped down again, and rode up a draw away from the river and out of sight.
I had begun to wonder what had become of that boy when I heard him coming back. He had found his cows, about six I suppose, besides three or four steers and a few calves, fourteen or fifteen head all told, and was bringing them down to the river. Now they did not want to cross the cold, rocky river, and I thought they wouldn’t do it, but the way that pony headed them off and pushed them in was a revelation; and they swam and tumbled across, some of them getting out quite a distance down stream; then the boy waded in with his pony and stood on her back in the deepest places. She stumbled once and nearly threw him, but he came down on her back instead of in the water, and as she clambered out on our side again and leaped off with him, I noted again that the pony had on neither bridle or saddle, and the boy was just swinging a loose piece of rope.
The next morning we continue on down the river to Circleville. We get out of the canyon and the valley widens from three to five miles and we soon reach the town of Circleville, so called on account of the circular valley. Here we buy oats, also some hay, and try to get bread, but without success. The houses are not built close together as usual, but scattered all over the valley.
We make a few inquiries here as to the shortest route to Green River, and these are the directions we receive: “Go up Grass Valley by Loa to Hanksville, then over Dirty Devil to San Rafael and on to Green River.” This didn’t sound nearly so far as the way we had planned to go so I asked, “Anything the matter with our going that way?”