THE ENGLISH PILGRIMS
Jack felt a little reluctant to crawl out of his warm blankets next morning when he heard the snapping and crackling of the fire, but habit was too strong for sleepiness, and he got up and hurried into his shoes and clothing as rapidly as he could, and then went out to the fire. It was still dark, and even the first signs of dawn had not begun to appear in the east.
"Now, son," said Hugh, "go out just as quick as you can, and get a pack horse and bring him in and put the saddle on him. We may as well walk this morning, but if we get a couple of beaver we ought to have a horse. By the time you get a saddle on him, grub will be ready, and mighty soon after that it will be light."
Hugh was quite right, and by the time they had finished eating it was light enough to see, and a few moments later they were on their way to visit the traps. The English party had camped quite close to where the first trap was set, and it had not been disturbed. Hugh declared that the white tent, set back on the bank not far from the stream, had frightened the beaver away. The next trap, a little lower down, contained a beaver, and so with the other two across the pond. The beaver were loaded on the pack horse, and then a round was made of the dead-falls, from which five mink were taken.
"Quite a bunch of fur for the traps we set," said Hugh, as they returned to camp.
As they passed the camp of the Englishmen, the packer was seen building a fire, having apparently just gotten up, but the Englishman and his son had not yet arisen, and Jack called out to the packer, asking him to tell Henry Clifford to come over to their camp after he had finished breakfast, and a muffled call from the inside of the tent showed that the boy had heard the message.
A moment later he was seen peering out of the tent door, and staring with greatest intentness at the pack horse and its load of fur-bearing animals.
Hugh and Jack returned to their camp, but when they reached it, Hugh said to Jack, "Now, son, if we're going to stay here three or four days, we don't want to litter up this camp with a lot of carcasses. Let's go off back into the timber a little way, and do our skinning there instead of doing it in the camp."
"I think so, too, Hugh," answered Jack. "It'll be a great deal more comfortable for us, and it's really no more trouble to go up there a short distance than to dump the load out here."
"All right," said Hugh, "we'll go up there, and we can choose a place from which we can see camp, and then if that young Englishman comes over, you can call him up to where we are, if he wants to see what we're doing."
Accordingly, they got their skinning knives and whetstones, and, going up the side of the valley, sat down on the hillside just within the pine timber. Both the camps were in sight from there.
They were both hard at work, each one on his first beaver, when Jack happened to look down toward the camp and saw the English boy and his father standing in front of the tent and gazing around as if looking for the owners of the camp.
"There are our friends down in camp, Hugh," said Jack.
"Well," said Hugh, "call them up here if you want to, or, at all events, let them see where we are, and then they can come if they feel like it."
Jack stepped out on the open hillside and whooped, and, when the strangers looked at him, waved his hat, and father and son started towards them, while Jack went back to resume his work.
Presently the two Englishmen came up to where they were, panting a little from the exertion of the climb. The son had his eyes fast on the beaver and the skinning, but his father, as soon as he reached the place, turned about and looked up and down the valley and across at the opposite mountains.
"An extraordinarily beautiful spot you've chosen for your work," he said to Hugh, and Hugh nodded without speaking. And, indeed, it was a lovely place. Opposite, the mountainside rose steeply, clothed with dark green timber to its crest. Away to the northeast lay the valley of the stream, with little parks and openings through which flowed the shining waters, amid groves of pale aspens, which, as the valley met the hillside, changed to dark pines. Up the valley the view was cut off by the hills, but where the company was gathered there was bright sunshine, and a lovely view.
"Are those beavers?" said Mr. Clifford, pointing to the animals that lay on the ground. "My son told me that you were trapping, and we came over to see what your success had been."
"Yes," said Hugh, "those are beaver, and this is a part of the work of getting them."
"How very interesting," said Mr. Clifford. "But, is not the work very hard?"
"Well," said Hugh, "that depends a little on how you look at it. Work that a man is used to does not seem hard to him, while a new job may seem very hard."
"True, true," said Mr. Clifford. "But I think the work of skinning these animals, to say nothing of trapping them and bringing them to this place, would seem to me very difficult."
"That is what Jack thought for the first two or three days that we were at work, but he's got so used to it now that he can skin a beaver pretty nearly as fast as I, and I don't think he minds the work nearly as much as he did."
Henry Clifford had seated himself on the ground close to Jack, and was watching the operation of skinning with the utmost interest.
"You seem to do that wonderfully well," he said, "and very fast. I wonder if I could learn how to do it?"
"Of course you could," said Jack, "if you feel like it; but it's greasy work, as you can see for yourself."
"Oh, I shouldn't mind that," said Henry. "I should like to try and see if I could do it."
"Well," said Jack, "you have to be pretty careful not to cut the skin. If you make a hole in it, that takes away from its value, and every particle of the skin has got to be cut loose from the fat. You can not strip it off, as you can the hide of a deer."
"Would you mind if I tried to help you?" said Henry.
"Not a bit," said Jack, "I'd rather like to have you. If you like, I'll give you this knife that I'm using, and I'll take my jack-knife, and we can work together on this beaver. Perhaps if we do that we'll be able to beat Hugh, and get the hide off before he finishes his."
Jack whetted his knife on the whetstone and gave it to Henry, showing him how to take hold of the knife, and how to cut through the fat. "You had better roll up your sleeves," he said, "before you begin, for this grease gets all over everything."
Henry did so, and Jack took his jack-knife out of his pocket, and they both set to work.
Of course Jack had to watch Henry, to see that he did not cut the hide and that he did not leave too much fat on it, and that made him work more slowly than he otherwise would have done, but Henry took hold very well, and seemed to remember everything that Jack told him, and before long it was only necessary for Jack to give an occasional glance at the other's work.
Hugh had only just pulled the hide free from his beaver when the two boys threw aside the carcass at which they had been working.
"Ah, Hugh," said Jack, "since I've got an assistant here I can work nearly as fast as you."
Hugh looked around and saw that both boys had been skinning, and seemed surprised and pleased, as did also Mr. Clifford, who said, "Why, Henry, I had no idea you knew anything about skinning an animal. Where did you learn?"
"I've learned all I know since we've been sitting here, father. Jack explained to me how it was done, and he and I have been working together ever since we got here."
Mr. Clifford, who had been talking continuously with Hugh in a low tone of voice, seemed greatly interested in him, and finally asked him if he was willing that he and his party should stay with him and Jack so long as they were here in the valley.
Hugh had replied that they would be glad to have them do so, but had said also that it was uncertain how long they would be here. They had proposed to go only up as far as the pass at the head of the stream, and then to return and to go south, into Middle Park, by way of Arapaho Pass.
The English people seemed very pleasant, and very much interested in all that they saw, and were evidently anxious to learn from Hugh and Jack all that they could about the country and the ways of life in it.
It was not yet the middle of the day when they had finished their skinning, and dragging the beaver carcasses off to one side, left them on a little bench of flat meadow, above which a spring trickled out of the hillside. Good-sized pine trees grew on the knolls on either side of this little meadow. As all hands started down for Hugh's camp, Hugh said to Jack, "We'll keep a lookout on those carcasses, and maybe before we go back we'll get a bear there."
"Why, Hugh," said Jack, "have you seen any sign?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "the day we got here I saw a little sign up the creek, and you know you started a bear yourself that same day."
"That's so," said Jack. "I don't expect, though, that bears will come down in the daytime to feed right in sight of the tents."
"No," said Hugh, "they won't. We've got to build a dead-fall here, and very likely we won't catch anything until we've moved."
Mr. Clifford and his son, who had heard this conversation, were more or less mystified by it, and Mr. Clifford asked Hugh, "Are there really bears about here, Mr. Johnson?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "there are plenty of bears, but, of course, you might travel a long time in these mountains without ever seeing one. There is no animal in all the hills that is as shy as the bear, and it's always likely to see and hear and smell you before you see it."
"And what is a dead-fall?" said Mr. Clifford.
"Why," said Hugh, "if you and your boy will come with us now you'll be able to see some, and can understand what it is better by looking at it than by having me explain it."
They stopped at the tent, and while Hugh prepared to cook the noon meal, Jack brought some water and chopped some wood and built the fire. Their friends sat down on the ground near at hand, and talked about their trapping.
"How very fortunate we are to have met you," said Mr. Clifford. "All this life and all the creatures of the mountains seem to be known to you. Then, too, your eyes are trained; you see a thousand things that we do not see, and never would see unless they were pointed out to us. I have read in books so many stories about the wonderful skill of the western mountain man in reading the signs of the prairie. I feel that we are very fortunate to have met people who can do that."
So Mr. Clifford and Hugh talked over many things, and Jack was somewhat astonished to hear Hugh speak freely about matters connected with Hugh's early life of which he himself had known only within two or three years.
"I should like to see a trap built to catch a bear," said Henry.
"Well," said Jack, "I never saw a big dead-fall built, but it must be a lot of work to make one. You see, a bear is a powerfully strong animal, and a very heavy weight would be needed to crush it. I have seen quite a number of grizzly bears, and it seems to me that they're the most powerful animal that there is. I believe that a grizzly bear, nine times out of ten, would be able to kill a buffalo, and a buffalo is about the biggest and strongest thing that we have in this country."
After the four had eaten, Hugh and Jack quickly washed up the dishes, and then Hugh said to Jack, "Son, let us go and look at those mink traps of ours. You and Henry can go ahead, if you like, and Mr. Clifford and I will follow. If you find anything in the traps, reset them, and if the bait is gone, get some more and I will bring the medicine along."
Hugh got his bottle of beaver medicine and hung it around his neck, and then the two older men followed the boys, who had started off. When they passed the Cliffords' camp, their packer was seen sitting under the shade of a bush, and when the boys came in sight he walked over to meet them, and said, "Well, I'm glad to see you again. I tell you it's been a mighty lonely morning, with nothing to do and nobody to see."
"Come on with us," said Jack. "We're going to look at some traps we've set along the creek."
"I'd be right glad to," said the young man, and the three walked briskly along. At the first dead-fall the bait was undisturbed, but in the second a mink was found. Jack stopped and explained the principle of the dead-fall to Henry, illustrating it by what was now before their eyes.
While they were talking, Hugh and Mr. Clifford came up and the lesson had to be gone over again, this time by Hugh, for the benefit of the older man. Hugh took the mink, and, slitting it across from one heel to the other under the tail, skinned away a little bit from the hams, and cutting out the two glands about which he had warned Jack when they first began to skin minks, he cut one of them open and smeared it over the bait. The odor of the cut gland was very offensive, but Hugh declared that it was the best kind of medicine for mink.
A round of the traps gave them two more mink, and Hugh declared that mink must be pretty plenty, since, during the morning, three had gone into the traps. By midafternoon they had made their rounds, and on their way back to camp stopped at the Cliffords' tent, and here Mr. Clifford and Henry asked them in, showed them a number of things that they had brought with them from England, among them a huge knife nearly a foot long, which to Jack seemed to have a hundred blades and implements. Mr. Clifford gave Hugh a package of tobacco, and Henry presented Jack with a volume which contained six books of Homer's Iliad. Then the two Americans went on to their tent, having promised to come back and eat supper with the Cliffords.
"That was a wonderful knife Mr. Clifford had, wasn't it, Hugh?" said Jack, as they approached their tent.
"Yes," said Hugh, "it was sure a wonderful thing. It seemed to me fit to be stuck up in a museum. I wouldn't pack around a piece of hardware as big as that if one would give it to me. There are, maybe, three or four useful tools in it, and the rest of it is just so much wood and iron."
"That's just what I was thinking, Hugh, that more than half of the things there were no good, and that you'd pretty nearly have to have an extra horse to carry it around with you."
"Yes," said Hugh, "that's just one of those things that storekeepers get up to sell to pilgrims. The storekeepers don't know what is needed out in this country, and the pilgrims don't, either, but the storekeepers pretend they know, and the pilgrims believe them. That's mighty pleasant tobacco that Mr. Clifford gave me," he continued. "I tried some of it this morning. I don't know as I like it as well as my plug, but it was mighty kind of him to give it to me, for I reckon it costs a good lot of money."
"Yes," said Jack, "that was nice, and it was nice in Henry to give me this book. I am a fool not to have brought two or three good books out with me into this country. A man has lots of time when he might read, and instead of that I always lie down and go to sleep. I'm going to try and read a lot of this book before our trip is over."
That afternoon Jack read for an hour in his book, and then proposed to Hugh, who was working over one of the newly stretched beaver skins, that they should take their rifles and walk up the creek for an hour. "I don't mean to hunt," said Jack, "but just to see how the trail is."
"That's good," said Hugh, "I'd like to go, and we can just as well walk as ride."
They set out, following the dim trail, which soon went into the green timber. After they had gone a mile or more up the valley, they came upon abundant sign of deer and elk, and a little later, as they paused, just before stepping out into a park, Hugh touched Jack on the shoulder and pointed to the mountain side far above him, where, after looking for a moment, Jack saw half a dozen elk walking across a little opening in the timber.
"I reckon," said Hugh, "there's lots of elk right here close. Of course, those that are down low are all cows and calves, but I reckon that if we get up high we will find the bulls. I expect likely these Britishers would like mighty well to kill an elk, and I expect, also, that we can take them right up to one."
"My," said Jack, "I would like to do that. I would like to watch that boy when he got close to game and see what he does. But, Hugh," he went on, "he tells me that he never shot his gun at anything. He hasn't any idea where it shoots, nor how."
"Well," said Hugh, "why don't you take him out and give him a lesson in shooting?"
"Well," said Jack, "so I might, but, of course, I can't do it around the camp. It would scare the beaver, and we'd scare the bear, and we might scare the elk."
"Well," said Hugh, "take him down the creek three or four miles to some little park there, far enough off so that the guns won't sound like much, and give him a lesson. You know very well he'll never be able to hit anything until he has learned how his gun shoots."
"I believe I'll try that to-morrow, Hugh," said Jack.
It was soon time for them to turn back, and immediately after reaching camp they went over to the Cliffords and supped with them.
During the evening Jack proposed to Henry that on the following day, after the work was over, they should go down the stream a short distance and try their guns, and Mr. Clifford, when he heard what they were talking of, asked to be of the party, also. After some discussion, it was agreed that all hands should start as soon as possible next morning, and that the rifles of both the Cliffords should be tried, so that later, if possible, they might be able to kill some game, but the events of the next day somewhat modified this program.
Jack and Hugh had reached their first beaver trap in the gray of the next morning, and after they had made the rounds they found themselves with two beaver and seven mink. The loaded pack horse was taken up to the place where they had skinned the day before, and the loads thrown down; but before Hugh began work he stepped over to where he could look down on the little meadow where the beaver carcasses had been thrown yesterday.
After he had looked, he returned to where Jack had already split his beaver, and said, "Well, son, the bears have been down at our meat below, and I reckon that instead of going down the creek to teach the boy how to shoot, two or three of us will have to stay here and build that trap."
"It will be quite a job, won't it, Hugh?" said Jack. "A lot of trees will have to be cut and hauled and put up. We're in better shape now to do it than we would have been before these strangers came, but still, it's going to be quite a lot of work, isn't it?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "of course it will be some work, but maybe not so very much. If this young man Jones is any kind of an axman, he and I can cut the trees and build the pen in half a day. We ought to begin that right away, and if possible get the pen built to-night. Then, if we put these carcasses in it without setting it to-night, we'll have a mighty good show of catching something to-morrow night."
"Well, Hugh, I don't see why we couldn't do it," said Jack. "We certainly need another bear hide or two."
"Yes," said Hugh, "so we do. Of course, though, if these strangers help us to build the pen, why, the fur has got to be divided up with them."
"That's so," said Jack, "but just think what fun it will be for them to help build the trap and to get the bear, if we do get one. They'll think that they're right in it, won't they; that they're real old trappers?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "I reckon they will. They seem to be mightily taken with all this life out here, and we'd both be glad to show them anything that we can."
"Of course we would," said Jack. "I think they're having a bully time, and it seems to me that Mr. Clifford is having about as good a time as his son."
"Yes," said Hugh, "I think they both like it. I reckon before long they'll both of them be up here, and then we can talk over the bear trap matter."
As Hugh had predicted, it was not long before Mr. Clifford and Henry were seen walking over, first to Hugh's camp, and then, when they found that deserted, up to the hill where Hugh and Jack were skinning.
After a little talk, the subject of the bear trap was broached, and both the Englishmen were delighted with the idea of putting it up.
"But how long will it take to build it?" said Mr. Clifford.
"Oh," said Hugh, "I reckon we can get it in shape before night; that is to say, if we all work at it, and, in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if we could finish it two or three hours before sundown. Do you know what sort of an axman Jones is?"
"No," said Mr. Clifford, "I do not; but I can handle an ax myself. I have chopped down a good many trees back in the old country."
"Why," said Hugh, "that's better yet. But I don't know if we've got axes enough for three people to handle; we've only one in our camp."
"I think we have two," said Mr. Clifford.
"Well," said Hugh, "if you have two, why don't you and Henry go down and get your man and the three axes and come up here, and then just as soon as we've finished our work we can go and cut some timber. There's lots of it here, and it's right handy to snake down. Then, while we are chopping, the boys can get the horses, and they can snake the logs out to where we'll need them."
"Good enough," said Jack. "I'll bet we'll get those logs down faster than they can cut and trim them."
Mr. Clifford and his son started on their errand, and not long after their return with Jones and the three axes the work of skinning the fur was over, and the beaver carcasses were ready to be used for bait.
Hugh now led the way up on the hillside to where there were a number of tall, slender pines, and he and Mr. Clifford and Jones each attacked one. The trees were eight or ten inches through, and were soon brought to the ground. Then they were cut in twenty-foot lengths, and the branches trimmed from them. Meantime, Jack and Henry had gone down to the camp, saddled four of the riding horses, which were brought back to where they were chopping, and Jack, putting a lariat around one end of a log, and taking a turn of the other about his saddle horn, started off to draw the stick out to the place where the trap was to be built. Hugh showed Henry how to do the same thing, and thus the logs were gradually brought out of the timber and to the meadow. Once in a while the end of a stick would catch on a root, and it would be necessary to dismount and lift it over, but after a while a trail was worn, in which the logs slipped smoothly. Before long Hugh declared that enough sticks had been cut, and then, going to the tops of the trees which had been cut down, he cut a number of stakes about eight feet long, which he sharpened at one end, Mr. Clifford and Jones helping him in this work. Then the boys snaked bundles of these stakes down to the building ground, and waited to see Hugh make his trap. He built his pen in the shape of a narrow V, driving these sharpened sticks into the meadow and piling the logs against them so as to make a wall of logs. Shorter logs and brush were then piled on top of the V nearly to its opening. A bed-stick was laid across the opening, just as had been done with the mink dead-fall, and the fall-log was arranged to run between four tall stakes, two on either side. All this was not done without much use of the ax, much lifting of logs, and much expense of strength and perspiration; but at last, when it was done, Hugh seemed satisfied, and said, "There, I guess that will do. Now," he said, "we will lift up this fall-log and prop it so that the bears cannot pull it down. They may not feel like going in the first night, but if there should be any young, foolish ones in the family they'll go in, and when the old ones see that they are not hurt, they'll come in, too. Then the next night we'll see what will happen."
The trigger and spindle for the trap were not yet prepared, but Hugh had cut two sticks from which they were to be made, and declared that he would do that work in camp. The carcasses of the beaver were now thrown into the traps so that they lay about four feet inside of the bed-stick, and were fastened there by a stout stick driven through them into the ground.
"There," said Hugh, "I guess now we can quit. That job is all right, and if we get some beaver to-morrow, we're likely to have bear the next morning."
They all felt better when they had returned to camp and washed off the grime of their work and were sitting around the fire. It was not yet supper time, and yet there was not time for the boys to go off on the target-shooting trip which Jack had planned. He spoke of this to Henry, and explained to him over again how hopeless it was for him to do any hunting unless he had learned just how his gun shot, and just how the trigger pulled off.
Mr. Clifford, who was listening, seemed interested, and said, "I can understand, Jack, something of what you say. I have never shot a rifle until I came to America, but it is easy to understand why the muscles of the shoulders and arms and of the fingers must all work together perfectly to send a bit of lead over a great distance to a particular spot. We are learning a great deal in these last two or three days, are we not, Henry?"
"Yes, indeed, we are, father," his son replied.
"I think, if you will let me, Jack, I will go with you to-morrow and try my gun when Henry tries his."
"Why, of course, Mr. Clifford," said Jack. "I'd be mighty glad if you would. I was talking about that with Hugh only this morning, and telling him I didn't see how it would be possible for you to have any luck hunting until you had learned these things. You see, I am now telling you only just what Hugh told me years ago, when I first came out here. These are not discoveries that I have made, but things that I've been taught, and that I suppose everybody must be taught, or must learn for himself."
"Well," said Hugh, "I've always said that you took hold of this rifle shooting, almost from the start, son, better than anybody that I ever saw begin. Just as soon as you had learned something about shooting, you were always steady and a good shot."
"Well," said Mr. Clifford, "why should we not all go off to-morrow to this place where Jack is going to try Henry's gun, and then both of us can take a lesson? Why will you not come, Mr. Johnson, and teach me while Jack teaches my boy?"
"Why, surely, I'd like to," said Hugh. "No reason why I should stay in camp to-morrow afternoon."
Hugh asked Mr. Clifford and his son and Jones to eat supper with them that night, and they did so, and after the visitors had returned to their camp, Hugh said to Jack, "Son, we are poor for meat again; you or I will have to go up in the hills and kill something, or else we'll have to eat beaver."
"Well," said Jack, "let's wait and see what happens to-morrow. Perhaps we might run on something when we go down the creek."
"We might," said Hugh, "but I don't think we'll go down far enough to see any antelope, and we're not likely to run on any game down here in the valley."
"Well," said Jack sleepily, "we've got to have something to eat, of course," and they went to bed.
Jack was pretty anxious to go up to the bear trap the first thing next morning and see what had been there, but, as usual, they went down over the trapping ground, and this morning their luck was bad. Only one beaver was found, and in the dead-falls there were but three mink. "Time for us to move, I guess, son," said Hugh.
"Looks that way, doesn't it?" said Jack. "Well, never mind; we've done pretty well here, and there are lots more creeks here in the mountains."
"Well, yes," said Hugh; "we can load up both horses with beaver, if we want to, but I don't believe you do."
"No," replied Jack, "I don't believe I do."
When they had reached the skinning ground, Jack looked down on the bear trap and could see that something had been there; in fact, it looked as if a regular trail led through the grass up to the entrance to the pen.
"I declare, Hugh," he said, "it looks to me as if there had been a whole drove of bears down there by the opening of that pen. There seems to be more sign than we saw yesterday, a good deal."
"I wouldn't be surprised," said Hugh, "if quite a lot of bears had come down there. Animals learn soon about good feeding places; I don't know how, but they do."
"Well, now, if you will skin these three mink, I'll take this beaver, and we'll see which gets through first." They had almost finished skinning, when their friends came up.
"I'll tell you, Henry," said Jack, "you've got to get up earlier in the morning if you're going to be a sure enough mountain man. I like mighty well to stay abed in the morning, but this trip Hugh has me up long before light every day, and I'm getting so I don't mind it a bit."
"Well," said Hugh, "if you are trapping, you want to get to your traps just as early in the day as you can see. Many a man has saved a beaver by doing that. You see, a beaver often gets caught when it's going home just before daylight, and it takes him some little time to thresh around and twist his feet off."
"Why, of course, rising in the morning is all a habit," said Mr. Clifford. "It's just as easy to get up at one hour as it is at another. In India, where, on account of the heat, we slept through the middle of the day, we used to get up before light, always."
"Well, Henry," said Hugh, "Jack tells me that there are lots of bear sign down at the pen, and I reckon we better do down and see what happened there." They went down there, and even Hugh was surprised at the amount of sign they found. Not the smallest vestige of the beaver remained, and all about the stick which had been thrust through them the ground was dug up and rooted over, as if the bears had suspected that something was buried there.
"Well, son," said Hugh, "I don't know but we've got more of a contract here than we reckoned on. We'll have to get a fresh bait for to-morrow night, sure. For as many bears as there are here, we ought to be able to catch two or three of them. You run down to the camp and bring up those sticks for the trigger and spindle, that I took down last night, and we'll fix them and set the trap now."
Jack brought the sticks, and some little time was devoted to arranging the trap. The beaver carcass was put on the end of the spindle and firmly tied there; a stake was driven into the ground just behind the bait, to hold in place the point of the spindle. A branch an inch long, standing out from the side of this stake at right angles to it, was smoothed so that the spindle, if pulled on, might easily slip out from under it. Then the other end of the spindle was rested on the bed-stick projecting out six or eight inches toward the mouth of the pen.
"Now," said Hugh, "this fall-log is heavy, and we've got to handle it pretty carefully. We don't want any of us to get caught in our own bear trap." He drove a stout stake into the ground just outside of the front one of the two stakes that were to guide the fall-log, and then, getting a long pole for a lever, the fall-log was lifted, the stake which had supported it was knocked away, and then the fall-log lowered until it was about four feet above the bait-stick. Then leaving Jones to hold the fall-log in position with the lever, Hugh went inside, and, resting one end of the trigger-stick on the portion of the spindle which projected beyond the bed-stick toward the mouth of the pen, he told Jones to lower the fall-log very slowly. Jones obeyed instructions, and after raising and lowering it several times, the fall-log and the spindle were held apart by the trigger-stick, and so delicately balanced that it looked to the boys almost as if a breath would disarrange them and bring the heavy fall-log down.
"There," said Hugh. "Now let's get out of this as quick as we can. I'm hungry and want something to eat." And indeed it was time that they should eat, for in their earnestness to set the trap the noon hour had long passed.
THE FIRST BIGHORN
After they had eaten, it was still the middle of the afternoon, and Jack said to Hugh, "Hugh, why shouldn't we all set off and go down the creek and help the Cliffords try their guns this afternoon? There is plenty of time to do that before dark, and then if we have any chance to hunt right soon those people will know something about where they are shooting."
"No reason at all why we shouldn't do it. If you'll fetch in the saddle horses, we'll start over and get the Cliffords now."
It took but a few moments to get the horses and saddle them. When the suggestion was made to Mr. Clifford and Henry, they, too, saddled up, and a few moments later the four were trotting down the trail.
In an open park, a couple of miles below the camp, Jack slashed the bark from a tree trunk, making a target, and then, stepping off a hundred yards, he said to Henry, "Now let me have your gun and I will fire three or four sighting shots, so that I can find out just how to hold it, and then you can shoot, and very few shots will tell you how you ought to hold your gun to hit the mark, or, at least, to come very close to it."
The shots fired by Jack showed him that, as is usually the case, Henry's gun was sighted to shoot high, but by drawing the fore sight down very fine, he put the last two shots within an inch and a half of each other at the center of the target. Then he explained to Henry what it was necessary for him to do; that he should draw the sight down, so fine that only the tip of the foresight could be seen in the notch of the rear sight; that he should not try to hold his rifle steadily for a time on the target, but should aim at the center and should pull the trigger just as the sight was about to pass over the center of the target. After three or four shots, and comments and criticisms by Hugh and Jack, Henry was able to bunch his bullets very close around the center of the mark he was shooting at, and quickly came to understand the process of handling the gun so that his bullets would go close to where he wished them to.
After Henry had finished, Hugh took Mr. Clifford in hand, and he, having had the benefit of seeing what his son had done, learned still more easily what was required of him, and in a very few shots seemed to have mastered the art of short-range rifle shooting, which is so often very difficult of acquirement.
The sun was yet an hour high when they finished their work and, mounting, rode back to the camp. The two boys galloped ahead, while the older men followed, also riding fast. They had almost reached the Clifford camp when Jack heard a dull sound, followed by a faint cry, a sort of squall which he did not recognize. Instantly he pulled up his horse and sat there listening, and in a moment Hugh and Mr. Clifford had overtaken the boys and stopped. Jack called back, "Did you hear that, Hugh? What was it?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "I heard something, and I suspect our dead-fall is sprung, and sprung by some animal, too."
"That's what it sounded like to me. That heavy noise was something falling. Let's ride up there and see what it is."
They pushed on by the camps, and presently came in sight of the dead-fall and could see that the fall-log had dropped. A moment later Jack saw a little bear on the hillside, which sat up and looked for a moment, and then ran away into the timber. When they had come close to the dead-fall they saw the fall-log lay across the body of a bear, and, dismounting at a little distance, they approached it. The bear was a large female, and the dead-fall had fallen across its shoulders and apparently broken the neck.
"I don't understand this, Hugh," said Jack. "The log ought to have struck her farther back. She could not reach the bait from this position. Could she have touched the bait and then jumped back while the log was falling?"
"No, son," said Hugh. "This bear did not spring the trap." As he spoke, he stepped over the fall-log and entered the pen, and after looking about a moment he turned and said, "She had a cub with her, and the cub pushed in ahead and got hold of the bait and sprung the trap just in time to catch the old one." Then he pointed out to the others the tracks made by the little bear, and showed how it had grasped the bait, pulled it to one side, and then, frightened by the noise of the falling log, had bolted out of the pen.
"I only see tracks of one cub," said Hugh, "but very likely there may have been two. Did you see more than the one as we came up, son?" he asked Jack.
"No," answered Jack, "I saw only one."
"Well," said Hugh, "let us get this bear out and skin it if we can before dark, and set the trap again. We're likely to catch another bear to-night."
All hands took hold of the fall-log, lifted it off the bear, and then propped it up and hauled the bear out in front of the pen.
"Now," said Hugh, "it's going to be a job to skin this bear, and unless we all take hold of it we can't get it done to-night. If we leave it here, and the bears come down to the trap again, they will eat it up, and we'll lose the hide, and very likely they won't go into the trap. What do you say, Mr. Clifford?" turning to the Englishman. "Are you willing to lend a hand to skin this bear?"
"Why, yes," said Mr. Clifford, after a moment's hesitation. "I shall be glad to. We came out into this country to gain new experience, and we may as well take part in all the work that presents itself."
"All right," said Hugh, "let's go at it right now. And Jack, son," he went on, "you go down to our camp and get the beaver knives and whetstones, and then go down to Mr. Clifford's camp and get Jones to come here and help."
Jack turned his horse and rode off without a word. Hugh called out to him, "Bring the ax with you when you come back." Jack signed that he understood, and went on.
When he returned with Jones, the bear had been slit and the three companions were hard at work at it, the Englishmen working very slowly and clumsily, and Hugh very quickly. When Jack and Jones took hold, the work proceeded much more rapidly, and just about sunset the last cuts were made, and the hide freed from the carcass. Then Hugh had everyone take hold and pull the body of the bear back into the very end of the pen beyond the bait, and then all hands went to work and reset the trap. The bear hide was rolled up and thrown across Jack's saddle, and he led the snorting Pawnee down to the camp, while Henry and Jones walked on either side, holding the hide in place.
"You men had better stop and eat with me," said Hugh. "Our grub is getting pretty low; we haven't anything but bread and bacon and coffee, but to-morrow, if nothing happens, we shall have some fresh meat."
The conversation that evening was much about bears, Mr. Clifford and his son asking a multitude of questions, to which Hugh replied as best he could. Mr. Clifford seemed to have an absorbing thirst for knowledge, and never grew weary of asking Hugh questions about the country and its life and the ways of its inhabitants.
Before the English party went to their camp, Hugh said, "Now, I think, to-morrow, as soon as we get done with whatever work we may find, we'd better move on up the creek and see if we can get into the high mountains where there's game. We're plumb out of meat, and then, I reckon, you all would like a day or two of hunting. We can kill some meat and dry some of it, and then I expect Mr. Clifford and his folks will go on down Grand River, and we'll come back and go down toward Middle Park by way of the Rabbit Ears."
Everybody seemed to think that to go hunting would be very pleasant, but Mr. Clifford made no reply to the suggestion that they would go down Grand River.
The round of the traps next morning yielded only one beaver and a couple of mink.
"Well, son," said Hugh, "I reckon there's not much more for us here in the way of fur, and we'll get this beaver skinned early and move on up the creek, unless we have a bear, and about that we'll know in a few moments now."
They rode over to the skinning place, and from that looked down on the bear trap. It was sprung, but when they went down, there was nothing in it. The beaver which had served as bait, however, was gone, and a considerable part of the old bear was eaten. There were fresh tracks and other sign all about, showing that several bears had been in the pen during the night.
"It's those durned cubs," said Hugh. "They come in here and pull at the bait and spring the trap and then get scared and run away, and later the bigger bears come down and eat the bait. I don't know that we'll do anything more with this trap, and, any way, it won't pay to set it just as we're going away. If we were going to be near enough so that we could come down here every day and look at it, it would be different; but it's quite a long ride up to the pass, and if we're going to hunt, we won't feel much like riding down here."
Before they had finished skinning the beaver, the Cliffords had come up the hill, and after the work was over Hugh and Jack took them down to the bear trap and explained the situation. Then Hugh proposed that they should all pack up and start up the stream for the pass, and before noon the pack train, now more than doubled in numbers, was climbing toward the summit.
It was a delightful ride through the green timber, with frequent glimpses of the brawling stream, which grew constantly smaller, steeper, and more noisy. Hugh led the way, followed by a couple of horses, and the strangers rode among the pack animals, each with one or more of the horses in front of him. Jack brought up the rear, having been told to do so by Hugh, and kept watch of the trail and of the animals ahead of him. Hugh had thought that they might reach the pass before night, but in this he was mistaken. The sun had already disappeared behind the overshadowing mountains when they reached a little level opening in the timber, and here Hugh turned aside and declared that they would camp. Just as he was about to swing himself out of the saddle, a white-tailed deer walked out from a bunch of willows along the stream and stood looking curiously at the strange visitors, and Hugh, slipping a cartridge into his gun, shot at it, and it fell. It proved to be a yearling doe, and was in good order. Before Hugh had returned with the meat and the hide, camp had been made, the tents were up, and the fires going and the horses short picketed on the grass. There were many hands, and the work went quickly.
The night was cold, and all hands were early astir and clustered about the fire. There was frost on the grass, on the willows, and on the horses' manes. The ropes were frozen, and there was a skim of ice over the quiet water of the pool in front of the camp. As the sun rose, however, everything warmed up; the frost melted, the high grass and willow bushes began to drip with moisture, and the ropes to dry; and, after the sun had been shining for an hour or two, the horses were packed and the train started out again.
It was interesting to Jack and to the English boy to notice in the shaded spots how the beautiful summer flowers, that they had so much admired the day before, were wilted and cut down by the frost, but in the open spaces where the sun shone on them the flowers seemed to speedily recover and once more held up their heads. As the train proceeded, the valley became more narrow and rough, and the impetuous force of the stream, which was now only a brook, increased. Sometimes it fell down in a sheer cascade for ten or fifteen feet, and at such points the trail left the stream and wound about in the timber, zig-zagging up the hill until the ascent was overcome, when it returned near to the water's edge. Some of the slopes were steep and some seemed dangerous, places where a misstep by the horse might throw the rider down forty or fifty feet into the stream below. One or two of the horses, whose packs, though light, were bulky and stood up high above the saddle, looked, as they climbed the steep places, as if they must be overbalanced by their load and fall backward.
To Mr. Clifford and his son this method of traveling was absolutely novel and at first really alarming. Neither said anything, however, but watched Hugh and Jack. They saw that these two rode along unconcernedly, and from this inferred that the danger was more apparent than real.
At last the valley through which they were traveling became a mere gorge, and at length, after climbing a few hundred feet up a very steep slope, they found themselves at the edge of the large timber. The view here was something to make even Jack catch his breath, accustomed as he was to mountain scenery. Before them lay a gently rising alpine meadow, intersected by ravines, in which a few stunted spruces flourished, and then above this was a wide amphitheater surrounded on all sides by rugged and towering rock summits. The floor of the amphitheater sloped smoothly down to a brook which flowed through its midst, and this brook came from a lake lying far above among the snow fields, from which, in turn, it drew its waters. Along the brook were low willows for a little distance, and then the altitude proved too much for them, and only grass grew. On the left-hand side, for several thousand feet above them, rose bare rocks streaked with vertical lines of red and yellow, while off to the south was the pass, showing as a deep sag two or three thousand feet below the general crest of the mountains, and up to this sag the amphitheater which they were entering rose with a gradual ascent. On the south and west side of the pass the mountains rose to a great height, terminating in a confused mass of rocks, from which three slender pinnacles towered toward the sky. The open meadow which they were now crossing was carpeted with soft, green grass, and with an astonishing profusion of flowers, red, yellow, blue, purple; columbines, harebells, asters, and a multitude of other flowers grew here, or higher up, close to and even among the snow banks. It was a wild-flower garden such as perhaps few people except those who have traveled in the high mountains have ever seen.
As they climbed higher and approached the pass, the ascent became steeper, and presently a cool breeze swept down the mountain side, showing that they were nearing the pass. A few hundred feet more of climbing and they reached the summit, where they halted to rest and look down on the lower land before and behind them. In front, to the south and east, they could see a great part of Middle Park and of the rugged and broken mountains which surrounded it. Almost at their feet a little lake nestled in the mountains. A few hundred feet below, the north fork of Grand River takes its rise and flows down through the narrow, wooded gorge, whose length they saw as far as the plains of Middle Park. High above, to the right, in a saddle, was a huge snowdrift, whose melting waters flowed from one extremity into the stream they had been ascending, and so on into the North Platte, and into the Missouri River; while from the other end another stream leaped out to join Grand River, which after a long course joins the Green to form that mighty stream of the West, the Colorado River, and so to reach the Pacific.
Looking backward the whole course of the Michigan lay before them, and away beyond it the gray sagebrush flats of North Park, with here and there a little lake gleaming in the sun like a bit of burnished silver.
"Great show, isn't it, Henry?" said Jack.
"Yes," said the English boy. "It is a marvelous view."
They had no time for further talk, for Hugh had started his horse down the pass on the other side, and following an old game trail he rode by the little lake until he reached the first few spruces that grew on that side of the range. Here camp was made, and as there were still a few hours of daylight, Jack proposed to Henry that they should climb up on the high mountains to the north and east of camp.
"I don't know how long Hugh will want to stay," he said to Henry, "but we better make the most of our time. If we can get up pretty high we may see a sheep or possibly a bull elk, and I guess you'd like a shot at either one, wouldn't you?"
"Indeed, I would," said Henry.
The boys started out, breasting the steep, rocky slope with courage. After climbing to a point a few hundred feet above the level of the pass, all vegetation disappeared except a gray lichen which clung to the rocks which were scattered everywhere over the ground. The mountainside was very steep. The loose rocks did not always give a firm foothold, and at that altitude the air was so rare that the boys were frequently obliged to stop and take breath. A cold wind had sprung up, but by the time they had reached the summit they were wet with perspiration. Jack quickly led the way to the lee of a huge mass of rock, and here, sheltered from the wind, the boys reclined and basked in the warm sunshine. Nearby was the edge of a tall precipice which almost overhung the camp, and going to the edge the two looked over, trying to guess how far they were above the camp. They could see a man in the camp, but could not recognize him, and the horses scattered in a little meadow seemed very small.
"Well," said Jack, "this isn't hunting. Come on;" and turning to one side, he struck off along the ridge of the mountain, followed by Henry. This ridge was smooth, rounded, and undulating, though constantly ascending. To the left was a deep, wide valley, in which grew many low willows, where Jack felt sure must be ptarmigan, while to the right were far-stretching mountains, most of them pine-covered and dark green, but one or two bristling with dead timber, whose white and weather-worn trunks gleamed and shone when touched by the sun. Jack saw a lot of things that he would have been glad to point out to Henry, but if they were to hunt, they must be about it. For some distance nothing was seen except a single little bird, which walked about the rocks, and then, as it was approached, rose on wing and flew a little further on, only to rise again. Now and then, from the rocks which lay on either side of the ridge, the plaintive cry of the little chief hare was heard. At one place Jack saw some freshly shed white feathers, which showed that some ptarmigan had passed by not long before, but he merely pointed to them with his hand as he passed them.
Presently, however, as the boys were crossing a little saddle, Jack noticed in some loose sand the tracks of two mountain sheep. He followed them carefully, going very slowly as he came to each ridge, but for some time saw nothing of the animals. Then, presently, on raising his head slightly over a ridge, he saw, almost on the crest of the next ridge, a ewe walking along, and a moment later a good ram came in sight following her. As he saw them he crouched down lower and lower, motioning with his hand to his companion to imitate his actions. The sheep stopped on the crest of the ridge, and looked about them and then passed on, unfrightened. As they disappeared, Jack slowly arose, first to his knees and then to his feet, and whispered to Henry, "Come on, now, here's a chance for a shot." They ran as hard as they could across the little hollow and up the slope where the sheep had just passed. As they approached the ridge, Jack slackened his pace a little, and falling back beside Henry, said, "You'll probably get a shot from this ridge. Go slowly now; get control of your wind, if you can; remember to shoot low down and just behind the foreshoulder. Low down, I tell you, and don't forget how to look through your sights. Now go carefully. I'll go ahead and take the look, and you load your gun and follow. Do just what you see me do." Jack approached the crest with extreme caution, for he was anxious that Henry should get a shot. It was well that he did so, for the sheep had paused in the little hollow beyond and were only now climbing the next hill, and scarcely seventy yards away. Jack threw himself flat on the ground and motioned Henry up beside him, and then whispered, "Take the ram, the one with the big horns. You have plenty of time; don't make any sudden motions, and wait a moment. They may stop." Lying full length on the ground, resting his elbows on it, Henry leveled his rifle, and a moment later the ram, which was behind, turned aside to nibble some bit of vegetation and gave a broadside shot. "Now," said Jack. "Remember, low down, and let him have it." A moment later the gun cracked, the ram plunged forward, and both sheep ran quickly over the ridge.
"By Jove, I believe you got him. I know he was hit, and I think hit right," and they raced along.
"Oh," said Henry, as they pantingly staggered up the slope, "I'm afraid I didn't hit him. My gun kept moving around so; but when I pulled the trigger, I thought it was moving toward the right spot, and I knew I never could hold it still."
As they topped the ridge, Jack saw lying among the rocks below them something brown and curved, which he was sure was one of the ram's horns.
"Hurrah!" he yelled, and they plunged down among the broken stones, leaping from one to another like a pair of young goats. Jack was much more active among the rocks than Henry, and reached the ram first. It was quite dead, for the bullet had gone just to the right spot, and through the great beast's heart.
When Henry came up, Jack shook his hands in cordial congratulation, and then, drawing his butcher knife, prepared to bleed the ram.
"My," he said, "but we've got a job now. You and I can never carry this animal into camp. We'll have to take what we can, and come up here to-morrow with help. Possibly we can get a pack horse up here, though I doubt it. I know we can't get one up the way we came, but there may be some other road. Well, come on," he continued, "we've got no time to fool; it will be dark in a couple of hours, and we must hurry." As they were at work removing the animal's entrails, Jack said, "Now, what shall we try to carry back?"
"Oh, Jack," said Henry, "whatever we leave here, let us take the head with us. I would not lose that for anything. Just think, it's the first sheep I ever saw, the first I ever shot at, and the first I ever killed. I do want to take that in and show it to my governor. My, won't he be delighted!"
"Well," said Jack, "if we carry the head we can't carry anything else. That head as it is, without any of the neck, will weigh not less than forty or fifty pounds, and we've got quite a way to go. Moreover, it's such an unhandy thing that we can't both of us carry it. We've got to spell each other."
"Let's try to take it, anyhow, Jack," said Henry.
"All right," said Jack, "we'll try," and cutting the skin of the neck low down to breast and shoulders, the boys quickly skinned away the hide from the flesh, cutting the head off at the first joint.
"Now," said Jack, "we must start back."
He took a red silk handkerchief out of his pocket, and putting it on the top of a high rock close to the sheep, placed a stone on the corner in such a way that when the breeze blew the handkerchief would flutter almost over the sheep's carcass. "That may keep away the eagles and the magpies," he said. Then he gave both rifles to Henry, handed him the sheep's liver to carry in his other hand, and, hoisting the sheep's head on his back, set out on the return to camp. Half a dozen times on the return journey the two boys changed loads, but at last they reached the end of the ridge and could look down on the camp. By a little search they found an easier place to go down than that by which they had ascended, and Jack thought that still further to the right he saw a still easier way, one up which a pack horse could perhaps be led.
The sun had already hidden itself behind the western mountains when the two tired boys reached camp. Jack, who had the ram's head on his shoulders, dropped it to the ground with a groan of relief, and said, "Well, Henry, I don't know who else I would have done this for."
The story of their success was soon told, and Mr. Clifford was delighted with the trophy, while Hugh praised Henry's shot and prophesied that he would become a good hunter. Henry told the story of his shot, of the hopes and fears connected with it, and of his final despair as the ram rushed off, and then of the rebound of his spirits at Jack's declaration that he believed the ram had been hit. Altogether it was a very pleasant evening.
After the talk had a little quieted down, and supper was being cooked for the boys, Jack asked Hugh, "Where does this meat come from, Hugh?"
"Why," said Hugh, "Mr. Clifford and I went out and took a little walk, and he killed a good fat bull elk. We're going out to get the meat in the morning."
"Well," said Jack, "this seems to be a great day for the Clifford family," a remark which both Mr. Clifford and his son seemed to find very amusing, for they shouted with laughter at it.
The next morning Hugh and Mr. Clifford, with one of the pack horses, went off to bring in the bull, while Jack, Henry, and Jones, with another animal, climbed the ridge to get the ram.
On their way back the two boys were fortunate enough to come upon a little brood of ptarmigan, the young now almost full grown and the mother beginning to be touched with white on various parts of her body. The little birds were quite tame, and permitted a near approach, but at length one after another they flew away, pitching down the mountainside with the high-pitched cackle that this bird always utters.
That afternoon the boys were too tired to go out and hunt, and Mr. Clifford seemed satisfied with his success of the day before. The next day, however, Jack and Henry climbed the mountains on the other side of the pass. They soon found themselves among peaks much higher and more rugged and difficult than they had yet seen. They found some sheep and were endeavoring to stalk them when, without any warning, a blanket of white fog settled down over the mountain top, hiding the sheep and everything else, except things very close at hand. They tried to get a little closer to the sheep, but the fog was so dense and so confusing that Jack put a veto on their moving, and they sat there waiting for the fog to lift. Curious sounds were constantly coming to them from the mountainside. Rattling of rocks, calls of birds and of small mammals, and other sounds which they could not recognize. Once the fog lifted for a little, and Jack thought he saw standing at a distance three rams. He stared to see whether they actually were rams or only small rifts in the fog, and then before he could determine, the mist shut down again and blotted them out. As the boys sat there, there was a whirl of wings in the air, and presently all about them alighted curious little birds with gray crowns, brown bodies, and rosy breasts, active, noisy, and constantly searching for food among the rocks, while they constantly uttered a shrill, musical whistle.
After a while Henry seemed to tire of this inaction, and said to Jack, "What are we going to do, Jack? Can't we go on?"
"Why, yes," said Jack, "we can go on, but where do you want to go?"
"Why," said Henry, "let's keep on hunting, or if we can't hunt, let's go to camp."
"Well," said Jack, "where do you want to hunt, and what are you going to hunt when you can't see much more than arm's length ahead of you? Anything you might come near would be certain to see you before you saw it, and one jump would take it out of sight. A man's got to have the use of his eyes if he's going to hunt, and in this fog we haven't the use of ours. Moreover, we can't go back to camp, because we don't know where camp is, at least I don't. I think it's in one direction, but I'm not sure. Where do you think it is?" he said.
"It's over there," said Henry, pointing.
"Well," said Jack, "I think it's over there," and he pointed almost exactly in the opposite direction. But he went on, "Even if we knew just where it is, I don't want to stir around much on the side of this mountain while the fog is as thick as it is. It would be easy enough for a fellow to tumble over the edge of a cliff and break some of his bones, and if he did that the other people in his party wouldn't have a very good time, would they?"
"No," said Henry, "I don't think they would; but is there any danger?"
"I don't know that there's any real danger," said Jack, "but I don't think it's worth while to run any risks unless there's something to be gained by doing it."
"No," said Henry, "I suppose not, but I hate to sit here doing nothing."
"So do I," agreed Jack; "I hate it just as badly as you do, I guess; but I think it's better to do that than to do something that might make a whole lot of trouble for all of us. Hugh has been preaching patience to me for the last five years, and though I haven't learned very fast, I've got it partly learned, I think; and I know it's best for us to sit here until this fog lifts, or until we get some idea of where we'd better go."
They sat there for quite a long time, and then gradually the fog grew brighter, and presently slowly rolled away from them and up the cliffs toward the peak, and the sun shone over the mountainside. Jack crawled out from the shelter of the rock and scanned the peaks above him for sheep, but could see nothing, and as it was well on toward the middle of the afternoon, he told Henry that they had better go to camp.
Hugh and Mr. Clifford had also been out climbing for sheep, and had also been overtaken by the fog, but as they had not been so high up as the boys, it did not stop them so long. No game had been killed. Jones had been busy all day long drying the flesh of the elk, which Hugh had shown him how to cut into thin flakes and hang out in the sun and wind.
That afternoon Hugh took Jack apart and told him that they would do well to return down the Michigan and continue their journey toward Middle Park, and Jack assented.
"I like these English folks," said Hugh, "and if they were going our way, we'd be well pleased to have them travel with us, but we certainly are not going their way, and can't follow them. If they feel like turning 'round and coming back with us, I'll say 'come.'"
Later in the afternoon, as they were sitting around the campfire, Hugh said, "Well, Mr. Clifford, son and I calculated to start back to-morrow. We want to go on down into Middle Park, and maybe get a little more fur, and if, as I understand, you're going down this creek here and going to Middle Park that way, why, we've got to separate."
For a moment after Hugh had spoken there was silence, and then Mr. Clifford spoke rather slowly and hesitatingly, and said, "Mr. Johnson, we have greatly enjoyed the few days that we have been with you and your young friend, and in that short time both my son and myself have seen more and learned more about this western country than we ever could have done in any other way. We would take it as a great favor if you would permit us to turn around and travel back with you. We value your company very highly, and if we might go with you, it would be a great favor to us, and one for which I should be willing to pay well. Of course, I understand that if we were with you, you would not be so free as if you were alone; that we would take up some of your time; that we might interfere with your trapping arrangements, and taking all that into consideration, I should be glad to pay any reasonable sum per day for the privilege of camping with you."
For a moment or two Hugh said nothing, and then he spoke and said, "Mr. Clifford, son here and I like you all very much, and it's a pleasure to us to have you around. If you feel like turning back with us, we'll be glad to have you. We are not out here traveling around in the mountains altogether as a matter of business. It's partly for pleasure, although, of course, we have been trapping and we expect to sell the fur that we may get. If you feel like turning around and coming back with us, we'd be glad to have you do so. I don't reckon there need be any question of paying for anybody's time. We like to have you about, and as long as we keep on feeling that way, you better come. If we should disagree about anything, why, then we could stop and separate any time."
"We are very much obliged to you," said Mr. Clifford. "You have done us a great favor. If at any time you should feel that you and your young friend prefer to be alone, tell me and we will leave you at once."
Bright and early the next morning the little train was packed, and by afternoon it had reached the old camp where the bear trap stood. The train was stopped, and all four men rode up to look at the trap. Bears had been there in numbers, and of the old carcass that had been left in the pen, nothing was left except a few gnawed bones.
"If we had time to fool with them," said Hugh, "we could get another bear or two here, but I don't reckon it's worth while. Let's go on and get down the creek as far as we can to-night."
They hurried on, crossed the broad beaver meadow of the Michigan before dark, and camped on the other side.