"Well," said Jack, "I tried to, but I wasn't sure that it wasn't an old cow until I put a knife into her. The only thing I was sure of was that she had no calf." "Well," said Hugh, "it's a nice piece of meat, and I'm mighty glad you got it."
"What's that house that I see up there, Hugh? Nobody lives here now, does there?"
"No," said Hugh, "I reckon that's some kind of a shelter or stable, built by hunters or prospectors, for their horses in fly-time. Flies are pretty bad here now, and I reckon close about this lake the greenheads must be enough to drive the horses crazy. I noticed to-day when we were crossing some points of that meadow up above that they were bad. If it hadn't been for that, I reckon we'd have camped up there by the lake. It's an awful sightly spot, but there were too many flies."
Supper was almost ready, and they feasted royally that night on trout and the fat sirloins of the elk; and after the meal was over, it was pleasant to sit round the big camp-fire that Jack and Joe built out in front of the lodge, and watch the blaze, and listen to the murmur of the river as it hurried over the stones, just beyond the camp. Every stick tossed on the burning pile sent a great cloud of sparks soaring upward to disappear among the dark green foliage of the spruces, which here grew among the taller cottonwoods. The warmth of the fire was grateful; the willows and cottonwoods and spruces all about their camp sheltered them from the strong wind which still blew down the valley; and Jack, as he lay stretched out on the ground between Joe and Hugh, thought that he never could have a happier time than that very moment.
"Now, boys," said Hugh, "I don't know how you feel about it, but it strikes me this is a terrible nice place to stop for a day or two. This is a good camp, and these mountains right opposite to us are things I like to look at. What do you say to our stopping here, say for one day, anyhow; and maybe to-morrow we'll take a little ride across the river, and get closer to these mountains, and see something of what they look like. I'd like mighty well to look at them long enough to kind o' carry a remembrance of them back with me to the ranch."
"Well," said Jack, "let's do that. There's no reason for our hurrying; we've got plenty of grub, and I think we'd all like to stay here for one day, anyhow."
"Now, there's two things we can do," said Hugh. "We ain't made up our minds how we'll go home; but we can cross the range in a whole lot of different places. We can either follow down Snake River for a way, and then work up one of the creeks, and go over and strike the head of Wind River, and follow that down, or we can go back to the park, and then cut across, and get down onto Stinking Water, and then go back on the prairie. My idea is that we'll do better to keep on south, and try to go straight on our course. We can either go up Buffalo Fork, and then strike across to the head of the Wind River, and follow that down; or go down and follow up the Gros Ventre, and get across some way there. We don't have to make up our minds to-day; we can settle that to-morrow night. Let's agree that we'll stop here to-morrow, and then to-morrow night decide what we'll do."
"All right," said both boys.
When the three friends got up next morning, and went to the stream to wash, they could see nothing of the great range beneath which they were camped, for the tall spruce trees which grew on the opposite bank cut off the view of everything beyond. After breakfast they saddled up and having picketed two of the pack horses, set out to cross the river, and to get nearer to the mountains. The river was wide, and so deep that the water came almost up to the saddle blankets, but they crossed comfortably enough, and riding through the open dry timber of the bottom, before long were approaching the high bluffs which formed the first terrace above the river. In the bottom were many tracks of deer and elk, some of the deer tracks quite fresh; and they almost rode over a huge old porcupine, which waddled awkwardly to one side, and then stopped among some low rose bushes, with its head between its forefeet, its quills erect, and its tail thrashing about in a threatening way. Jack stopped his horse and said to Hugh:
"Hugh, is there anything in that story that porcupines throw their quills? I've heard lots of people say it is so, and then other people say it isn't."