The pine-tree was still burning as we set off just after sunrise that morning, but a turn in the valley soon hid it from our sight. The weather was glorious again, and we made good progress, stopping that night at the snuggest settler’s house we had yet come upon; but we could hear very little about Fort Elk. The man, who was living with his wife and son in that solitary place, had heard of the Fort that it was “somewheres up to the norrard.” That was all he knew, but he gave us a good supper of roast deer flesh, and told us that if we looked out we could easily get more on our way, and when we were higher up we might perhaps get a mountain sheep. He was curious to know our object in making so long a journey, but saved Gunson from any difficulty in explanations by supposing that we meant to do something in skins, saying that he had heard that the company up there did a big trade with the Indians in furs.
We left him and his son the next morning many miles from his ranch, for he had insisted upon shouldering a rusty piece and showing us part of our way by a short cut which saved us from a journey through a canon, where the path, he said, was “powerful bad,” and it did seem a change when he left us with instructions to keep due north till we struck the river again, where we should find another ranch. For in place of being low down in a gorge, made gloomy by the mighty rock-sides and the everlasting pines, we were out on open mountain sides, where the wind blew, and the sun beat down pretty fiercely.
We reached the ranch in due time, obtained shelter for the night, and went on the next day, finding the country more open. I was trudging along side by side with Esau, Quong was behind us, and Gunson out of sight among the rocks in front, when we were startled by a sharp crash, followed by an echoing roar.
“What’s that?” said Esau, turning pale. “Here, stop!” he cried.
But I was already running forward, to come up to Gunson, reloading his rifle, and in answer to my inquiry—
“Don’t know yet,” he said; “I fired at a sheep up on that rocky slope. There was one standing alone, and half a dozen behind him, but I only caught sight of their tails as they disappeared up that little valley. The smoke kept me from seeing whether I hit one. Let’s leave the packs here, and go up and see.”
It was a hot and difficult climb, for the valley was again steep and contracted here, and when we reached the shelf where Gunson said the sheep had stood, there was nothing to be seen but a wild chaos of rocks and the narrow rift down which a stream bounded, and up by whose bed the sheep had rushed.
“Bad job,” said Gunson, after a full half-hour’s weary search. “That meat would have tided us on for days, and made us independent when we reached the next ranch, where the people would have been glad of the skin.”
“Shall we climb up higher?” I said, in a disappointed tone.
“No; let’s get back, and go on. Those two are having a comfortable rest,” he added, as he pointed to where, far below, Esau and Quong were lying down by the packs.