Fig. 15.—Professor E. D. Cope.
Fig. 16.—Brontosaurus or Thunder Lizard.
Restoration by Osborn and Knight. (From painting in American Museum of Natural History.)
After satisfying himself that there were no skeletons more or less complete on Dog Creek, Cope took the guide and went off down the river to Cow Island, forty miles below. This point was the head of navigation on the Missouri in October, the water then being so low that the steamboat could not get up to Fort Benton. The last boat came up on the fifteenth of October, to carry a load of ore and passengers down to the railroad at Omaha, and as the Professor had decided to take this boat, it was necessary for him to be on hand when it arrived.
A few days later he sent word to us on Dog Creek to break camp and proceed, according to the scout’s directions, to Cow Island with all the outfit. This was no easy task; in fact, at first sight it appeared impossible. No wagon had ever before rolled down those steep hillsides. Mr. Isaac, however, took command, and, after removing everything from the wagon except the Professor’s trunk, which could neither be packed on a horse nor carried by hand, we began our journey up the long twelve hundred feet to the prairies above.
Working with axes, picks, and shovels, we cut trees, bridged chasms, and made roads, climbing upward step by step, until in the afternoon we reached what for the moment threatened to be the end of our journey. Before us rose the sloping side of a ridge, covered entirely with loose shale, and so steep that it was impossible to climb it even on horseback without making a long diagonal across its flank. At the summit the ridge was narrow enough to be straddled by a wagon, and it sloped down at the same angle on the other side.
The teamster refused to go any further, and this angered Isaac, who said that he would drive himself. So he unhitched the lead horses, and climbing the wagon, urged on the stupid mustangs. One walked in a trail that we had made, the other in the loose dirt below.
I was a good deal concerned as to the fate of both man and team, but experience had taught me the folly of arguing with an angry man; so I sat on my horse and waited for the outcome. Isaac had driven about thirty feet above the level floor, when the inevitable happened. I saw the wagon slowly begin to tip, pulling the ponies over sideways, and then the whole outfit, wagon and horses, began to roll down the slope. Whenever the wheels stuck up in the air, the ponies drew in their feet to their bellies, and at the next turn, stretched out their legs for another roll.
My heart was in my mouth for fear that Isaac would be killed in one of the turns, or that wagon and all would roll over a thousand-foot precipice below, but after three complete turns, they landed, the horses on their feet, the wagon on its wheels, on a level ledge of sandstone, and stood there as if nothing had happened.