Chapter 6 A SHEEP HUNT

THE sun had hardly risen the next morning before the camp was astir, and while they were breakfasting on the excellent trout which had been caught the night before, the question was discussed as to what they should do now. Immediately across the lake rose a high, castellated pile of rock, with almost vertical sides, which the boys had recognized as the mountain under which Joe had killed a mountain sheep with his arrows some years before. Both boys had spoken of this, and Hugh presently said to them, "Why don't you boys go up there to-day and get a sheep.

Fish are good, of course, but we want some fresh meat, and a good fat sheep, if you can find one, will help us out amazingly. We ought to have something to eat now, because these flies here are going to drive us away from the lake and we'll have to get high up into the mountains. It's true we may find game anywhere, but it will be lots better to have some fresh meat in the pack than to go along without it, and then perhaps have storms or bad luck for two or three days and have to live on bacon. The flies don't seem very bad this morning, but it's fly time, and they may tackle us any day and be mighty troublesome to us and to the stock."

"Well," said Jack, "there's nothing I'd like better than to get up on that hill again, and if Joe feels like coming I'd like to start right off."

"I'm ready," said Joe. "Come on."

It took only a short time to bring in the saddle horses, and before long the boys were mounted and riding off over the Indian trail that led toward the inlet.

The inlet is a deep, swift river which flows through a strip of land perhaps two miles long by a mile wide, which separates the lower lake from the upper, and carries the drainage of all the great mountain region about the upper lake. The lower end of this strip of land is wooded with spruces and cottonwoods, but the upper end is a wide meadow covered with heavy grass, where, in old times, buffalo, elk, and deer often fed. The Indian trail which the boys were following was originally a game trail made by the mountain bison and the elk. It wound through the bare, rolling hills, now and then crossing some tiny stream running down from the high land, and at last plunged to the level of the inlet, where a large swift stream spread itself over a graveled bar and twisted in and out among the willows and aspens. After crossing this they reached the flat of the inlet, and presently the trail came out into the open meadow, and a mile further on they rode down into the main inlet stream. This was so deep that both the boys had to tuck their feet up behind the saddles to keep from getting wet, and in one place it looked as if the horses might have to swim. The crossing was a short one, however, and presently they emerged on the other side, and in a very few moments began to climb the hill just opposite the lower end of the lake.

The hills here, though smooth, were steep and for the most part covered with a thick growth of small aspens. Here and there along the dim trail were little open parks, in one or two of which were fresh elk tracks. As the boys climbed higher, the aspens gradually gave way to pines, and then to spruces. The way grew steeper and more difficult, and at last, when they reached the top of a high hogback, above which the bare rocks rose sharply, they left their horses and began the ascent on foot. Here the snow still lay on the ground and made the climb harder, because it was impossible to see on just what one was stepping. It was rough and difficult, and the slope was so steep that sometimes the boys had to scramble along on all fours. At first it was over smooth grass made doubly slippery by the snow which covered it; then came the piled-up rocks, which in past ages had tumbled from the face of the mountains, and here progress, though slow, was easier, because the footing was more secure. It was on this slope that they passed the last few stunted spruces, and when they reached the top, they had left all the trees behind.

Nothing was to be seen save a wide expanse of gray rock and white snow, which ran up to a cliff whose top was hidden by dense mist. All the morning the clouds had been hanging about the mountains, and now the boys were fairly among them. They could see but a short distance in any direction, and the prospects for hunting were very poor.

"What do you think, Joe?" asked Jack. "Shall we sit down and wait for it to clear, or keep on?"

"Well," said Joe, "not much use hunting when it's like this. Any animals about are sure to see you before you see them. I'd stop here and wait a little while and see what happens."

"All right," said Jack, "let's crawl in under this rock and sit there. Our eyes are not much good to us now, but anyhow we can listen and see whether we can hear anything moving around. I guess there are sheep up here all right, and if we can't get them to-day we can to-morrow."

"That's so," said Joe. "There are sure sheep here. This is a great place for them. You know Old Brockey?"

"Yes," said Jack.

"He's always told me that there are always sheep on this mountain in summer. They live around there in that valley where you and I killed one. In winter they live high up on the side toward the lake, but they are always here. The only thing is to find them."

"Yes," said Jack, "we've got to keep looking for them until we do."

The boys sat there for an hour or two, pretty uncomfortable, for both were wet up to the knees. A cool breeze was blowing along the mountainside, and the dense fog, which by this time had settled down over the hills, chilled the boys to the bone; so that after a little while they got up and began to run up and down over the small level space near the boulder which sheltered them, beating their arms against their breasts in the effort to keep warm. Presently, however, and almost without warning, the sky grew lighter, the fog lifted, and they could look out over the mountainside and down on the quiet dark green lakes, and as they looked the sun came out through the clouds, sparkled on the wet foliage below them, and changed the somber lakes into patches of brilliant blue. After a little the sun reached the boys, and it was wonderful to see how their spirits rose and how soon they got warm. At once they started on, gradually working up the rough slope until they had nearly reached the foot of the great wall of rock which overhung it. They made their way slowly around the northern point of the mountain and into the rocky valley which separates it from the next mountain to the northward, but almost as soon as they entered this valley the weather changed again. Black clouds dropped down and a fierce wind began to blow, bringing with it now and then blinding snow squalls. The fog did not descend as low as before, but every now and then a flurry of snow blotted out the whole scene.

Jack and Joe backed up against a huge boulder out of the wind and waited. As they sat there, a curious squeak, almost like that of a little child's penny trumpet, came from the rocks just below them, and both boys recognized it as the bleating cry of the little chief hare. Half a dozen small birds alighted close to the boys, as if seeking shelter from the wind, and with soft whistling twitter walked about on the stones and on the snow, apparently picking up food. They were so close that Jack could see their gray crowns and rosy breasts and backs, and he thought them about the prettiest birds he had ever seen.

"What are they, Joe?" he whispered; but Joe could give him little help. He said, "Snow birds, I guess. Anyway, they only come in cold weather. I reckon they live high up on the mountains."

Presently the little gray-crowned finches disappeared, and only a few minutes afterward they saw a white-tailed ptarmigan walking about among the rocks just below them. Then the sun came out and the wind went down and they started once more on their hunt.

They were following a sheep trail which led along the rocks when suddenly Jack, as his head arose above a rise, saw in a little meadow below him the hips and body of a feeding animal. Instantly he slowly sank out of sight, and Joe imitated him. Jack turned to Joe and made the sign for mountain sheep and pointed in the direction of the animal. Joe signed to him to go ahead, and he crept forward, and when he took another peep he saw a two-year-old ram alone, feeding in the little meadow in the valley below. The distance was a little more than a hundred yards and the shot seemed an easy one. Jack motioned Joe to come beside him and said, "You take the shot, Joe; don't you want to?"

"No," said Joe, "you shoot. I'm out here all the time. I have plenty of chances to kill animals. Now you try that sheep, and see what you can do."

"All right," said Jack, and creeping forward to where a larger piece of rock crowned the knoll, he rose to his knees behind it, and, resting his rifle against the side of it, prepared to shoot. The sheep was still feeding and had his tail toward Jack, but was considerably below the boy's position, so Jack aimed at the animal's back, just in front of the hips, and drawing a fine sight, fired. The ram fell, and the boys scrambled down to it, and found it lying dead. The shot had entered the back just to the right of the backbone and had passed forward and downward through the lungs and heart.

"Good shot," said Joe. "It's pretty hard to shoot down hill that way; 'most always shoot over."

"Yes," said Jack, "that's so; but you see I had two or three chances, because his hips were toward me and that gave me a long surface to fire at. I made up my mind that I'd shoot at the kidneys, and if I didn't hit them I had the chance of cutting his lungs and heart and also of breaking his back."

"Yes," said Joe, "that's so. He gave you good shot."

"Well," said Jack, "we've got to get this beast back to camp, or at least as much of him as we can carry, and I suppose we may as well get at it."

When their knives were out it did not take long to skin the sheep. The head was not worth taking along.

When, however, it came to carrying the animal they found it was much too heavy to be transported in one trip. As a matter of fact, neither of the boys was stout enough to take half the sheep on his back. They were obliged to quarter it.

"Tell you what," said Joe, "we don't know much."

"Well," replied Jack, "I guess that's so; but what do you mean?"

"Why," said Joe, "next time we come out hunting each one of us better take a sack and two or three strings in his pocket, and then if we kill anything we can cut the meat off the bones and put it in the sack, and that saves all the trouble of carrying the bones into camp."

"That's so," said Jack. "What a pity we didn't think of that before. But look here; hold on; why can't we make a sack out of this sheep's hide, cut the meat off the bones and put it in the hide, and then carry the hide between us on a pole all the way to the horses?"

"Well," said Joe, "maybe we could do that. That's a good idea. It's a pretty heavy load to carry that way. It's going to be hard to climb up the hill."

"Well," said Jack, "let's try it anyhow. I don't care much about making two trips from here to the horses if we can avoid it."

Accordingly the hide was spread out on the rocks, flesh side up, and the boys cut away all the meat from the sheep's skeleton. Practically the only bones they took with them were the shoulder blades, everything else being cut out and left there. This meat was carefully piled up on the sheep's hide, and this was folded over and tied with strings cut from the sheep's hide and passed through little holes made in the border of the hide.

"Jack," said Joe, "do you know that this is the way our people used to carry meat into camp, away far back, long before they had horses, and when they had only a few dogs?"

"No," said Jack, "I never heard that before. Tell me how it was."

"Not now," said Joe. "The first thing we've got to do is to see whether we can carry this load to the horses."

Going down a little way into the valley they cut a stout quaking aspen pole, trimmed off the branches and cut it off to about twelve feet in length. Then, returning to the hide, the skin of the shanks was tied about the pole so closely that the load of meat lay immediately under it and had no swing from side to side.

When Jack took his end of the pole and lifted it on his shoulder the load seemed much heavier than he had supposed. However, Joe raised his end, and the two staggered forward, at first with more or less difficulty, but more steadily as they got used to it. Presently they began to climb the steep trail which would take them over the mountain to a point above where the horses were. Every now and then they had to stop and put down their load to rest and puff for a moment or two, until they recovered their wind. After stopping two or three times, they learned to choose a place where the load could be deposited on the top of a high rock, so that it would not be necessary each time to lift it from the ground. It was slow and weary work, but some progress was made, and at last they reached the top of the shoulder, whence the way would all be over level ground or down hill. As they were sitting there, resting and not talking, Joe put out his hand and touched Jack, and pointing down the hill, showed him a marten, resplendent in his glossy brown coat, running along and whisking his black-tipped tail. The animal did not see the boys, and after he had passed out of sight, Joe said, "You bet your life that fellow will find that sheep skeleton before night and he'll have a good time there."

A little later the boys reached the top of the slope, and looking down they could see the horses tied to the trees below. They took their load off the stick, tied the strips of skin of the legs tightly together, and then rolled the bundle over the top of the ledge, watching it as it rolled and bounded down the hill, and finally stopped among the trees only a hundred yards or so from the horses. Then they began to climb down the rocks, and before long had reached their animals.

"Now, Joe," said Jack, "how are we going to carry this meat to camp?"

"I reckon we'd better pack it on my horse and I can walk," said Joe. "It isn't far."

"Well, but how are you going to get across the creek?"

"Oh, I can ride on top of the load for a little short way like that," declared Joe.

"I don't know, though," he went on, "whether these horses will pack fresh meat like this, but we'll have to try."

It was soon evident that the horses would strongly object to the load, and it was not until Joe's horse had been blinded by a coat that the boys could lift the meat across the saddle and lash it with Joe's lariat. After that had been done and the blind removed from the horse's head he showed a good deal of disposition to buck, but at last thought better of it, and when Jack led the way down the trail, Joe's horse followed very quietly.

When streams had to be crossed, Joe clambered on the load of meat, and they reached camp long before sundown without further incident.