"If we only had a rope we could rope him," said Kit. But we didn't. There was no profit in chasing a burro all over a mountain, and so, hot and tired, we went back and reported.
The old bear had been skinned and butchered, after a fashion. The head was left on the hide, for the brains. At first Major Henry talked of sending down to camp for a blanket and making a litter out of it. We would have hard work to carry Jed in our arms. But Jed was weak and sick and didn't want to wait for the blanket. Apache would have been a big help, only he was so foolish. But we had a scheme. Scouts always manage. (Note 59.)
We made a litter of the bear-pelt! Down we scurried to the aspens and found two dead sticks. We stuck one through holes in the pelt's fore legs, and one through holes in the pelt's hind legs, and tied the legs about with cord. We set little Jed in the hair side, facing the bear's head, turned back over; the Major, the two Red Fox Scouts, and Kit Carson took each an end of the sticks; Fitzpatrick and I carried the meat, stuck on sticks, over our shoulders; and in a procession like cave-men or trappers returning from a hunt we descended the mountain, leaving death and blood where we had intended to leave only peace as we had found it.
Apache made a big circuit to follow us. The two cubs sneaked forward, to sniff at the bones where their mother had been cut up—and began to eat her. We were glad to know that they did not feel badly yet, and that they were old enough to take care of themselves.
But as we stumbled and tugged, carrying wounded Jed down the draw, we knew plainly that we ought to have let that mountain alone.
"LIKE CAVE-MEN OR TRAPPERS RETURNING FROM A HUNT WE DESCENDED."