Early one sharply fresh morning, I had left the camp in the direction of High Rock Cañon. This was at a distance of some ten miles.
While upon my way, perhaps some six miles or more, I saw a mountain-sheep. Having a liking for wild mutton, I cautiously crept round the cliff upon which he was standing, to get a fair shot at him. At length reaching a spot from which I might consider myself fairly sure of the meat, I fired.
The shot told, and the animal fell.
However, instead of dropping where he stood, and where I could not inconveniently have become possessor of the toothsome flesh, the perverse sheep preferred rolling down the cliff.
Well! It would be some more trouble, but I could easily get him. I therefore went round to the base of the cliff. On arriving there, I could not help swearing a most ungodly oath. That wretched lump of mountain-meat had chosen to remain some half-way from the bottom on which I was, and the top of the precipice, on which he had been standing.
My readers may already have been enabled to give me credit for what I consider my resolution, although some of my good friends have not unoccasionally denominated it obstinacy.
It came very decidedly into play, upon this occasion.
I was determined not to be balked in my love for mountain-mutton. In accordance with my resolve, I prepared to climb after it. The face of the cliff was so steep and rugged that, in order to have the use of both my hands, I was compelled to relinquish my rifle. Therefore, depositing it where I stood, I commenced the ascent. Being a good climber, I naturally thought I should have no more difficulty than that which generally attends such an operation. Neither, had I. After reaching the jutting point upon which my mutton had so pertinaciously lodged, I dislodged it, and sent it down the rough precipice. It was now time to think of myself regaining the base of the cliff, in a less rapid mode. But, to descend was no child's play. Now I could not find the footing which I remembered previously having. Consequently, I was obliged to wriggle my body to one side or the other, in order to find a place to rest on. Afterwards, the rock would crumble under me, or fragments upon which my feet were resting would slip out of their bedding. Moreover, my sight was utterly useless. I had to depend upon the trained sense of feeling in my moccasined toes. Having covered some space of the face of the cliff, I began to find I was not descending it in the same direction in which I had ascended it. The cliff was sloping inwards. Again I had to climb and try a new line. This was apparently somewhat better. However, placing my feet upon the roots of a sage-bush, I was incautious enough to trust my whole weight to it.
It tore out from the face of the cliff.
When I felt it giving way, I threw out my hands to grasp at some support.