This cañon proved, like many others in that region, almost impassable for man or beast, and it was with the utmost difficulty and by the endurance of untold and incredible hardships that they were able to make seven or eight miles a day. They encountered plenty of game in the cañon, however, among which were elks, bears, and mule-deer, and the creek which ran through the cañon yielded them an abundance of trout, so that they fared sumptuously so far as food was concerned.
Finally, after several days in this cañon, they reached the head of it and came out on a high plateau which was covered with heavy pine timber interspersed with beautiful parks or meadows and thickets of aspen and alder. Numerous springs boiling up here coursed down into the cañon from which they had just emerged, and fed the creek which ran through it. Pressing forward across this formation for a distance of about ten miles, they reached the base of one of the great snow-capped peaks, near the top of which they expected to find the particular game of which they were in search. But this mountain was so precipitous and so rough that it was impossible for them to get their horses up it in any way. They discussed various plans of accomplishing their object. It was highly dangerous to leave their horses here alone, lest the bears or mountain lions, which were so numerous in the vicinity, should stampede and run them off. It was impossible for either man to go alone and bring down two of the skins and heads suitably prepared for mounting, as they, with the other load which it was necessary to take along, would be more than any one man could carry. It would take two days to make the ascent, have a few hours for hunting, and return to where they then were, and in order to pass the night at all comfortably in that high altitude a liberal supply of blankets must be carried.
They therefore decided, as the only feasible plan, to make camp where they were and start up early the next morning, leaving their horses behind. They made all possible preparations that night, and the next morning arose at four o'clock. By sunrise they had breakfasted, and with their packs, consisting of two pairs of blankets each and a two days' supply of cooked food, they started. They did not dare picket or hobble their horses, as either would give the wild beasts a chance to attack and kill them, and could only trust to luck, an abundant supply of good grass and water, and the well-known attachment which nearly all Western horses feel for a camp, to keep them there until their return.
After a hard day's climb they came upon abundant signs of goats about the middle of the afternoon, and, preparing a temporary bivouac under a shelving rock, they deposited their loads, made a pot of coffee, ate a hearty dinner, and started out to look for the game. They had not gone far when Mr. Westlake sighted a large, handsome male goat standing on the top of a cliff, and approaching within easy rifle range he fired and killed it. It fell some twenty or thirty feet, and lodged behind a projecting slab of granite. It was secured after considerable hard work, hastily skinned, and the skin and some of the best cuts of the meat carried to their temporary camp. Night was now approaching, and the hunters set about preparing a supply of wood. There were numerous dead pine and cedar trees, of stunted growth and peculiar shapes, standing and lying among the rocks, and a generous supply was soon provided. Next, a large quantity of cedar boughs were cut, brought in and spread under the overhanging rock, to a depth of a foot or more. On these the blankets were spread, and the hunters had a bed which many a tired lodger in Eastern city hotels might well envy them. By building a rousing fire in front, which was reflected against the rock wall behind them, and by occasionally replenishing it during the night, they slept comfortably, though the temperature ran several degrees below zero.
Early the next morning both men started out in search of a female goat to complete their undertaking. Nearly two hours had been spent in hunting, when the Indian found a fresh track in the snow some distance above their temporary camp. He followed it until it led in among a forest of rent and jagged cliffs of granite, and Westlake, who was some distance away, seeing by the Indian's motions that he was on a trail, started toward him. When within a few feet of where he had last seen the Indian he heard the report of his rifle, and a shout announced that his shot had been successful. Mr. Westlake followed on into the chasm from whence the report came and saw the Indian attempting to scale the side of a nearly perpendicular wall of rock, stepping cautiously from niche to niche and shelf to shelf; holding on with his hands to every projecting point that afforded him any assistance. He finally reached the top of the ledge, and reaching over caught hold of the now lifeless body of the goat that he had killed, and drew it toward him. But when it swung off from the top of the ledge its weight and the consequent strain on his muscular power was greater than the Indian had anticipated, and before he had time to let go of the carcass and save himself his slight hold on the rock was torn loose, and uttering a wild shriek he fell a distance of nearly sixty feet, striking on a heap of broken rocks! He was instantly killed.
Here was a sad blow to poor Westlake. His only companion, his faithful guide, and the only human being within fifty miles of him, lay a corpse at his feet. He had no means whatever of getting the body back to their camp, much less of returning it to the unfortunate red man's friends. He had not even a tool of any kind to dig a grave with, and the only thing he could do in that direction was to build a wall of rocks around the body, lay some flat slabs across the top, and then carry and lay on top of these a number of the largest and heaviest rocks he could handle, to protect it from the ravages of wild beasts. When this sad duty was completed he returned with a heavy heart to their temporary camp, and with as much of their luggage as he was able to carry started down the mountain. Arriving about noon at the tent, he was horrified to find the tracks of a large bear in and about it, the greater portion of his supplies eaten up or destroyed, and his horses nowhere in sight. A hasty examination showed that the bear had passed through the little park in which they had last been grazing—evidently early that morning—that they had taken flight and fled in the direction of the head of the cañon up which they had come. Westlake followed them several miles until convinced that they had really started on their back trail, and then he returned to camp. By this time night was again approaching and it was with a heavy heart that he prepared to pass it there, all alone, and still further depressed with the thought that he had now a journey of a hundred miles or more before him, to the nearest settlement, which he must undoubtedly make on foot. He ate his supper alone and in sadness, and as the camp fire blazed in front of his tent it cast fitful shadows into the gloom, which was unbroken by any sound save the occasional soughing of the wind through the pine trees or the cry of some wild animal. He finally retired to rest, but his sleep was broken by troubled dreams. As the sun arose he prepared a hasty meal, which was eaten in silence, and with a pair of blankets, a few pounds of flour, salt, and coffee, and his rifle, he started, leaving his tent standing and all else in it as a monument to the memory of his friend and a landmark to future hunters and mountaineers to locate the scene of his great misfortune. He traveled seven days before seeing the face of a human being or sleeping under a shelter of any kind, when he finally reached a ranch where his horses had preceded him and had been corraled to await an owner.
It is fortunate that all goat hunters do not meet with such disasters as did poor Westlake and his young friend, or the noble sport would have still fewer votaries than it now has.
