The Greatest Works of Emerson Hough – 19 Books in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Emerson Hough
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those sheep,” ventured Moise, “he’ll be best for eat of anything there is — no meat better in the world than those beeghorn.”
“Well,” said John, “why don’t we start out to get one? This looks like a good country, all right.”
“That suits me,” added Rob. “Jess, do you want to go along?”
Alex looked at Jesse before he answered, and saw that while he was tall for his age, he was rather thin and not so strong as the other boys, being somewhat younger.
“I think Mr. Jess would better stay in camp,” said he. “He can help Moise finish drying his fish, and maybe they can go down and have a look at the rapids from the shore. We others can go over east for a hunt. I’ve a notion that the mountains that way are better.”
“It looks like a long way over,” said Rob. “Can we make it out and back to camp to-day?”
“Hardly; I think we’ll have to lie out at least one night, maybe more, to be sure of getting the sheep.”
“Fine!” said John; “that suits me. We wouldn’t need to take along any tent, just a blanket and a little something to eat — I suppose we could carry enough.” He looked so longingly at Moise’s pots and pans that everybody laughed at him once more.
“All right,” said Alex, “we’ll go.”
The old hunter now busied himself making ready their scant supplies. He took a little bag of flour, with some salt, one or two of the cooked fish which remained, and a small piece of bacon. These he rolled up in a piece of canvas, which he placed on his pack-straps. He asked the boys if they thought they could get on with a single blanket, and when they agreed to this he took Rob’s blanket, folded it, rolled it also in canvas, and tied it all tight with a rope, the ends of his tump-strap sticking out, serving him for his way of packing, which was to put the tump-strap across his head.
“It’s not a very big bundle,” said he. “You young gentlemen need take nothing but your rifles and your ammunition. I don’t need any blanket for a night or so. What little we’ve got will seem heavy enough before we get up there in the hills.”
“Now, Moise, listen,” he added. “You’re to stay in this camp until we get back, no matter how long it is, and you’re not to be uneasy if we don’t come back for two or three days. Don’t go out in the boats with Mr. Jess until we get back. Give him three meals a day, and finish up drying your trout.”
“All right,” answered Moise, “I’ll stay here all summer. I’ll hope you get beeg sheep.”
Alex turned, and after the fashion of the Indians, did not say good-by when he left camp, but stalked off. The two boys, rifle in hand, followed him, imitating his dignity and not even looking back to wave a farewell to Jesse, who stood regarding them rather ruefully.
They had a stiff climb up the first ridge, which paralleled the stream, when the boys found their rifles quite heavy enough to carry. After a time, however, they came out at the top of a high plateau, where the undergrowth was not very thick and tall spruces stood more scattered. They could now see beyond them some high, bare ridges, that rose one back of the other, with white-topped peaks here and there.
“Good sheep country,” said Alex, after a time. “I think good for moose, and maybe caribou, too, lower down.”
“Yes, and good for something else,” cried Rob, who was running on a little in advance as the others stopped. “Look here!”
“There he goes in his moccasins,” said Alex. “Grizzly!”
“Yes, and a good big one, I should think,” said Rob. “Not as big as a Kadiak bear; but see, his foot sinks a long way into the ground, and it’s not very soft, either. Come on, Alex, let’s go after him.”
Alex walked over and examined the trail for a little while.
“Made yesterday morning,” he commented, “and traveling steadily. No telling where he is by this time, Mr. Rob. When an old white-face starts off he may go forty miles. Again, we might run across him or some other one in the first berry patch we come to. It seems to me surer to go on through with our sheep hunt.
“There’s another thing,” he added, “about killing a big bear in here — his hide would weigh fifty to seventy-five pounds, very likely. Our boats are pretty full now, and we’re maybe coming to bad water. There’s good bear hunting farther north and east of here, and it seems to me, if you don’t mind, that it might be wiser for us to hunt sheep here and bear somewhere else.”
“That sounds reasonable,” said John. “Besides, we’ve never seen wild bighorn.”
“Come ahead then,” said Rob, reluctantly leaving the big bear trail. “I’d just like to follow that old fellow out, though.”
“Never fear,” said Alex, “you shall follow one just as big before this trip is over!”
Alex now took up his pack again, and began to move up toward the foothills of the mountains, following a flat little ravine which wound here and there, at no place very much covered with undergrowth. At last they reached the edges of bare country, where the sun struck them fully. By this time the boys were pretty tired, for it was far past noon, and they had not stopped for lunch. John was very hungry, but too brave to make any complaint. He was, however, feeling the effects of the march considerably.
“Well,” said he, as they finally sat down upon a large rock, “I don’t see any signs of sheep up in here, and I don’t think this looks like a very good game country. There isn’t anything for the sheep to eat.”
“Oh yes,” rejoined Alex; “you’ll find a little grass, and some moss among the rocks, more often than you would think. This is just the kind of country that bighorns like. You mustn’t get discouraged too soon on a hunt. An Injun may be slow to start on a hunt, but when he gets started he doesn’t get discouraged, but keeps on going. Sometimes our people hunt two or three days without anything to eat.
“But now since you mention it, Mr. John,” he added, “I’d like to ask you, are you sure there are no signs of game around here?”
Both the boys looked for a long time all over the mountain-slopes before them. Rob had his field-glasses with him, and these he now took out, steadily sweeping one ridge after another for some time.
“I see, Alex!” he called out, excitedly. “I know what you mean!”
“Where are they?” called John, excitedly.
“Oh, not sheep yet,” said Rob, “but just where they’ve been, I think.”
“Look, Mr. John,” said Alex, now taking John by the arm and pointing across the near-by ravines. “Don’t you see that long mark, lighter in color, which runs down the side of that mountain over there, a mile or two away, and up above us?”
“Yes, I can see that; but what is it?”
“Well, that’s a sheep trail, a path,” said Alex. “That’s a trail they make coming down regularly from the high country beyond. It looks to me as though they might have a watering place, or maybe a lick, over in there somewhere. It looks so good to me, at least, that I think we’ll make a camp.”
They turned now, under the old hunter’s guidance, and retraced their steps until they found themselves at the edge of timber, where Alex threw down his bundle under a tall spruce-tree whose branches spread out so as almost to form a tent of itself. He now loosened his straps and bits of rope from about the bundle, and fastened these about his waist. With remaining pieces of twine he swung up the package to the bough of the tree above the ground as high as he could reach.
“We don’t want any old porcupine coming here and eating up our grub. They almost gnaw through a steel plate to get at anything greasy or salty,” he explained. “We’ll call this camp, and we’ll stop here to-night, because I can see that if we go up to that trail and do any waiting around it will be too late for us to get back home to-night.”