"Continuing my journey for a short time, my ponies wanted to stop for a feed, and I felt the same inclination; so I unpacked, scratched a fire together, made some coffee, and while my gentle steeds were pawing and nibbling at grass in bare places, took to my pipe of 'Wills' Westward Ho' (supposed to be) tobacco, dried and cut fine, but it ought to be labelled 'Old Boot Tops,' instead of 'Uncle Sam.' So absorbed was I in my pipe, I did not notice that my Arabs had decamped, leaving me in the lurch. Ascending a higher point, I could just distinguish them a mile off, and had it not been for the snow, they would have been five miles away, making steadily for home, though why they wanted to go there I do not know. Certainly not for food; at least, I could very rarely find any luxuries there myself. A brisk walk, with much shouting, 'Whoa! where are you off to?' &c, brought me up to them. A hasty return, quickened by prodigious cudgellings, though my pack-horse has a hide like a rhinoceros, packing up, and giving old Jim a happy reminder, I again rode along. Towards evening it became excessively chilly. I had taken a little eau de vie with me, which, however, I always put in my pack, as its immediate presence on my person might tempt me too often; so starting my pony at a little quicker pace, and getting off, I made for old Jim, just a little ahead of me; but no sooner was I within reach of the old boy's tail than he started off at a brisk gambol. Nothing would induce him to stop till he had left me some distance behind. However, being persistent, and by making little detours, I secured him and the bottle.
"The place to which I was bound was some seventy miles from home, and through a rough and wild country, infested with bears, mountain lions, and wolves. The weather at night was very cold, and my fare not princely. At sundown I struck off into the timber, lighted my camp fire, secured one of the horses, and in a short time was fast asleep, dreaming of delightful trips by land or sea. Let me not forget a little incident which occurred this first night. It being a calm evening, the wind having lulled, before retiring for the night I did not put up my little tent. At somewhere between midnight and three o'clock I was awakened by a terrible (or it seemed so then) howl close to my head, which had got out of the blankets, and on looking up I saw an awful head not a foot from mine, teeth, jaws, and ears. It did not take as long as it does to recount to find my head where my toes were; I had performed a sort of double somersault, landing me in the snow, and then I looked back and found the terrible monster who was ready to devour me was off at a two-forty pace in the opposite direction. After all, it was only old 'Jim.' He must have been scared at a coyote (wolf) or other marauder, and sought my protection; but he was certainly scared far worse the second time. Shaking off the snow, and having another pipe between the blankets just to consider awhile as to whether the old animal was not going to cause me more trouble, I soon fell asleep again, dreaming of bears, tigers, and every other household pet.
"On waking, my blankets seemed heavier than on going to bed. It had snowed during the early hours, and they were converted into white ermine. One more snooze, and then to get up, shake my blankets, light my fire; breakfast through, and horses saddled, away I start to commence my second day. A few hours after starting I lost sight of the valley I had come from, but in front of me again was one of the finest panoramas I had ever seen. From my elevated position, and for a distance of fifty miles at least, I could see mountain after mountain towering one above another—high, sharp, rocky peaks, and undulating table-lands. Leaving this, I broke off down a narrow divide or cañon, wending my way towards a bright stream, near which I could discern a small house, some fencing, and cattle ranging around.
"Two hours' ride brought me to the little stream, now a raging torrent. The farmer shouted to me not to attempt the crossing, but my motto is 'Excelsior.' I had terrible hard work to cross.
"'Try not the pass!' the old man said,
'Dark lowers the tempest overhead.
The roaring torrent is deep and wide.'
"My horses were very nearly carried away down the rushing stream. However, we succeeded at last; and a warm fire and a chat with a human being, for it seemed a month since starting, revived my hopes. I found the house to be owned by a cattle-man whom I met just before entering, ready saddled, and on his way to hunt up some game. The house is beautifully situated; the stream furnishes an abundant supply of fine mountain trout, many of which have been caught in a little irrigating ditch, which the rancher has run out from the stream to water his garden, and not having time to put them back in the stream, and time to eat them, I presume he prefers the latter. Here, 'midst the heart of the Rockies, lives a man and his wife all alone, not seeing a human being for a month at a time, perfectly happy and healthy, letting their cattle range on the vast undulating lowlands; and here, owing to the amount of wind in winter, they feed all the year round, bare places being thus kept open. Although a pressing invitation was given me to stay, I still journeyed on, following the creek along, and having to cross it no less than nine times until the route indicated to me took up a rough and dry cañon, where, I have since found out, the gentle rattlesnake 'loves to lie a-basking in the sun.' Nothing happened worthy of mention, save old Jim, who, wanting to give his old back (made at an angle of forty-five degrees) a scratch, coolly—I may here use the word, as it was in the snow—squatted down and commenced to roll with my precious pack on his back. My coffee-pot was crushed square, frying-pan jammed into the hunch of bacon, and eau de vie bottle smashed. What did I say? Never mind. At length we got to what seemed to me an impassable barrier, a terribly deep snow-drift. If I had reached this place early in the morning all would have been well, but now the sun had softened the upper crust, and the first step old Jim took was up to his neck, his poor old front legs and nose were hidden altogether, presenting a comical picture which I should like to give you a sketch of. Unpacking him, letting him struggle backwards, carrying the pack by pieces nearly a half mile, and letting the horses swim rather than walk through, took me two good hours at least, landing me on a bare place, only to find that I had another drift almost as bad to go through. A repetition of the above landed me near two or three scattered pines, not knowing in the least where I was or which way to turn, my clothes wet, everything wet, bottle gone, and generally played out.
OLD JIM IN A SNOW-DRIFT.