Jack in the Rockies: A Boy's Adventures with a Pack Train

by George Bird Grinnell

There was nothing on the trail that was difficult for a man on foot or for a careful horse, and for some time they went on very well, and made good time; but in crossing a little brook which ran down over the trail, and where there was a mud-hole, the bay horse, pausing and putting down his head to investigate the trail, was crowded upon by the dun and kicked back at him with both heels, and when his feet came down they were over the edge of the trail, and, trying to recover himself, he clumsily fell down and rolled over once or twice. Just below the trail at this point there was a big patch of stiff alders growing close to the steep hillside. Jack saw the horse begin to fall, and, dropping his own bridle rein and placing his gun on the hillside above the trail, he slipped by the dun, and before the pack horse had turned over twice he had caught it by its hackamore and checked it. In a moment Joe was by his side, and the two hung on like grim death, and held the horse there on its side, with its head a little up the hill. Meantime Hugh had left his horse and come back along the trail, and in a moment he too had hold of the horse's head. Fortunately, the horse lay perfectly quiet, and neither slid nor rolled, his hips being more or less supported by the alders. Hugh quickly unfastened the hackamore, which gave all hands a better hold, and then said to Jack, "Slip down there now, behind the horse, and see if you can loosen that lash rope. If you can't, cut the lacing that holds it to the cinch. We've got to get that pack off, or else lose the animal. Don't get where the horse can hit you with his feet; reach over his back."

The horse was lying on its off side, and it was impossible to loosen the lash rope, but reaching over the back, Jack cut the lacings of the lash cinch, so that the whole lash rope fell off. "Now," said Hugh, "come back here and hang on to the hackamore." Jack took Hugh's place, and Hugh quickly loosened the sling ropes, and removing the packs from the saddle, carried them up to the trail, and then along it a little distance until he reached a place where the ground on the upper side sloped more gradually. Here he deposited the packs one by one; then he took hold of the hackamore again and said to Jack, "Go and get your rope and bring it here, and tie it round this horse's neck in a bowline." When this had been done, the end of the rope was passed round a small spruce tree, which grew just above the trail, and then all three held the rope, so that now the horse could not possibly roll down the hill, unless the tree gave way, or the men let the rope go. While two of them held the rope, Jack led the horses along the trail, until a place was reached where it came out on a wider ledge, and leaving them there returned. Then the pack horse was made to rise to its feet, and without very great difficulty, assisted by the rope about its neck, it climbed back to the trail and was led along to a place where there was more room. Now, while Hugh mended the lash cinch, the boys carried the packs along the trail to where it was wider, and at length the horse was re-packed, and they started on.

While they were at work, Jack said to Hugh, "I want you to understand, Hugh, that I didn't drive the dun onto that horse. The dun came up behind him and stopped, and the bay kicked at him, and lost his footing, and went over the side of the trail."

"I know," said Hugh, "I know; I was watching. It wasn't anybody's fault, but the fool horse that tried to kill himself. You did mighty well to get hold of him as quick as you did, and if it hadn't been for that, if he'd made one more roll, he'd have gone over the rocks, and we'd have lost him, and likely a lot of the load he's carrying.

"We've got to look for things like this when we're travelling with a pack train, and I'm mighty surprised that we've had as little trouble as we have."

It was near sundown when Hugh stopped as they came out on a bench of the hillside, and said: "I reckon we'll have to camp up here to-night, boys. There don't seem to be any place where we can get down to the river. There's good grass here for the horses and a place where we can picket two or three of them, but I don't see any water just here. Jack, you ride up the hill, and see whether you can find anything that looks like a spring. Joe and I'll stop here with the horses."

Jack had not ridden far, when, passing over a little ridge, he found, issuing from a ledge of rock, a good spring, which ran down into a little ravine, and calling to the others, they came up there, unsaddled, and made camp. It was dark when supper was over, and their talk was chiefly of the difficulties of the day, and the narrow escape had by the pack horse.

"A man is bound to lose an animal in the mountains now and then," said Hugh, "not always through his own carelessness, but because there's always some horses and mules that are fools. After all a horse is nothing but a bundle of nerves, and if he gets scared and loses his head, why he doesn't do anything but jump round and kick and make things worse for himself. Now, that's where a good man has the bulge on any dumb beast that ever was. A man, if he's got sense, will stop and think, and reason, and try to find some way out of his difficulty; but a critter doesn't do that. That's the reason horses and mules and cattle stampede, and that's the reason often that human beings stampede too; they lose their senses, and become no better at all than just so many animals. We've always got to keep our wits about us, be ready, and when anything happens do the right thing, and do it right off—like you did to-day, son, when you ran to grab that horse's head, and like you did too, Joe; for I saw that you were both ready. You saved us the horse, and a mighty good job it is.

"I remember one day, years ago, we lost our whole kitchen outfit just through the foolishness of a mule. It was near Henry's Fork of Green River, and I was guiding a lot of soldiers and bug hunters up from the Unita agency. To get down into the valley we had to follow down a mighty sharp crest that ran out between two deep ravines. It was mighty narrow, and a terrible long way down on either side, but there were no bad places in it; but a big bay mule that carried the kitchen, in two big baskets, tried to turn round and look at the rest of the train that were coming, and somehow she caught her hind legs over the edge, and they slipped down, and she hung a little while with her forefeet, but before any one could get to her she let go, and she fell. She was dead long before she struck the bottom, I guess, and the kitchen was all smashed and broken up. I believe we did get some knives and forks and tin plates out of the mess, but the plates were all battered, and had to be hammered out on a tree with an axe before they would set on the ground. It was one of the worst falls I ever saw an animal take."

The next morning the horses were seen scattered all along the hillside above the camp, and it took the boys some time to gather and bring them in; and while they were doing this, a big doe, followed by two little fawns, jumped up out of a patch of quaking aspen, ran a short distance up above them on the hillside, and then all three animals turning round stood looking at them, with their great ears thrown forward. The boys stood for a few moments and looked at her, and then she turned again and clambered still higher up, only to stop again for another look. Neither felt any desire to shoot at her.