Jack Among the Indians; Or, A Boy's Summer on the Buffalo Plains

by George Bird Grinnell

"Yes, sir," said Joe, "I've been up there a good many times."

"All right," said Hugh; "go along then; but see that you don't get into no trouble. If you see any bears, don't bother with 'em; just let 'em go off. Go up there and kill a sheep, if you can, and spend the day, but try and get in before dark."

The next morning the two boys started. Joe rode a little fat, wiry pony, without either saddle or bridle, and Jack, as usual, rode Pawnee. The trail up the mountain was narrow, overgrown and winding, so that in many places it was hard to see where it went, but Jack noticed that all along it, the twigs of the aspens had been bent and broken by persons riding along it, so that it was not difficult to follow. Every now and then, however, it left the aspens and passed out through a little park where the grass was long and bent in all directions by the passage of animals. Some of these were elk, and Jack saw a bear track or two. In such open parks the trail was quite lost, for in passing across such open places the Indians no longer follow one behind another in single file, but spread out, each horse taking his own way. The mountain side was absolutely wild, and looked as if it might shelter any number of wild animals, but nothing larger than a squirrel was seen, and at last they reached the steep, grassy slopes which lay just below the rocks. Here Joe said they must leave the horses, and they picketed them there.

Not many yards above where they stood, the stones, fallen from the mountain side, lay piled up steep, and above them rose sharply the vertical cliffs which formed the summits of the mountain. Jack looked up at the rocks and said to Joe: "Do we have to get up on the top there?"

"Yes," said Joe, "that's the place to look for sheep. Pretty good climb up there, ain't it?"

"Yes," said Jack, "it looks a long way, but we've got plenty of time to do it in."

"That's so," said Joe, and they started, Joe leading and Jack following close behind, carrying his rifle in his hand. It was hard work climbing up over these steep rocks, some of which were just balanced so that if one stepped on them near the edge they tipped, making the footing uncertain, and to the white boy, accustomed only to the exercise of riding, the work was hard. Before long he was quite out of breath, and the exertion made the perspiration stream down his face, though the day was not a warm one and a cool breeze blew along the mountain side.

Presently Joe stopped and sat down in the lee of the great mass of rock, saying, as he did so: "Pretty hard work; makes me puff and blow plenty, and you too."