The Awakening Of The Desert Part 24

Looking from a concealed position across a deep valley, I observed on the opposite slope an animal which I became satisfied was a mountain sheep, the Big Horn. I had seen many specimens of the various animals and birds indigenous to the West, but never a mountain sheep, except in captivity. They are wary animals, and like the chamois of the Alps are at home on the rocky cliffs. I must be cautious. My horse was fastened behind me, out of view, down the mountain slope. My Henry rifle was in good condition. Lying on my face while carefully sighting through the underbrush, I felt myself to be absolutely safe from discovery.

Calculating the distance as accurately as possible, a careful aim was taken, but the bullet fell far short of the mark, striking the rocks away beneath. The animal was evidently unconscious of my death-dealing purpose, and nestled quietly half-concealed in a growth of underbrush.

Another shot was fired, when it became evident that my Henry was not of sufficiently long range to reach the game. The opportunity before me was too rare to be sacrificed without effort. Therefore, after tying a silk handkerchief to a limb to mark the trail to my horse, I skirted the spur of the mountain, on foot, slowly descended into the ravine, and laboriously clambered up the other side.

The time and effort expended in accomplishing the ascent to the other side made it clear that I had been greatly deceived in the distance, but I was happy to make any physical effort to secure a mountain sheep. The last quarter of a mile must be made with exceeding caution, because the quick ear of the Big Horn would catch any unusual sound. After more than an hour of vigorous but cautious climbing, an eligible point was reached, toward which my course had been directed, and with rifle ready to fire on the first sight of the game, my head was slowly raised above a projecting rock in confidence that the game had not ascended the mountain. There it was in full view, not more than a hundred yards distant. It certainly had horns, but the sight of half a dozen ordinary sheep huddled together in the background revealed to my obtuse consciousness the fact that my game was a ram, which was guarding a little flock of domestic sheep similar to those with which we are all familiar.

Shall victory be wrested from defeat? Our boys needed meat, and I could tumble a sheep's carca.s.s down the mountain side. Conflicting emotions throbbed within my breast, until approaching the sheep I was confronted by a tough-looking mountaineer, after which I cared less for mutton.

"What are ye doin' up here?" was his interrogatory.

"Oh, I'm out a hunting."

"What kind of game are ye after?" he asked.

"Oh, any nice game that needs a good shot."

I noticed that the stranger had a revolver at his side, and in a few moments another slouched-hat individual emerged from a little hut in a side ravine.

"What kind of a rifle is that you've got?"

"It's a Henry."

"I've hear'n of one but never seen one before. Lemme see it," said the mountaineer. He took the gun from me and carefully looked it over.

"Where are you from, anyhow?" he asked, without taking his eyes from the gun. I gave the name of the town without any additional facts.

Continuing, he said, "I was there once. I lived up in Bark Woods awhile.

Do you know where Pumpkin Holler is, just beyond Hebron?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever know Jim Roach, who hauled logs to Joe Powers' saw mill at Hebron?"

"The holler is several miles from my town, but I think I have heard the name," I replied.

"Didn't you ever hear of Jim Roach's nephew Ben?" he asked.

"Maybe I have," was the answer.

"Well!" said the mountaineer, "I'm him."

CHAPTER XXVIII

SOME EPISODES IN STOCK HUNTING

In later years, through the influence of one of its ambitious citizens, the little settlement referred to in the last chapter as Pumpkin Holler had come to be known by the more cla.s.sic if less appropriate name of Rome. There was, however, nothing in my recollection of that sleepy crossroads or of its alleged former citizen, Benjamin Roach, and his friend, that would tempt me to remain longer than necessary in their mountain fastness, nor did I invoke their aid or inform them that a number of our cattle had strayed up the adjacent valleys. It was the current belief that some men who lived in those parts, having no other visible means of support, were inclined to care for stray stock, and pursued that avocation as a pastime chiefly in their own interest. As soon, therefore, as the Henry rifle was again in my hands, I retreated down the mountain side through the thickets of underbrush and then up the other side of the valley. The silk handkerchief, which had been left on the opposite cliff as a landmark, served a good purpose as it enabled me to reach my horse by a fairly direct course.

The lengthening shadows on the mountain slopes were a warning that I should speedily proceed to the business of hunting cattle. It was nearly sunset when I caught a glimpse of oxen nearly a mile distant and partly concealed by a grove near which they were grazing. Being confident that they were part of our missing stock I started to reach them. The steep, rough, and rocky mountain slope which was hurriedly descended in the quest was ill adapted to horse-back riding and the pathless groves of underbrush proved to be serious obstructions to progress. Becoming entangled in the unyielding branches the stock of my rifle was broken squarely off, and a few new holes in size beyond the skill of the novice to repair, were punched through my garments in places where additional holes were unnecessary. On emerging into an open s.p.a.ce, it was found that both horse and rider had received a few scratches, and the bridle was broken. All these mishaps were ordinary incidents to which any stock hunter is subject if he is inclined to wander unnecessarily into new and untrodden paths, but the big whip, the favorite artillery of the cowboy, was saved. Our wayward oxen were finally rounded up far up a valley where the gra.s.s grows the greenest, but with temper not unlike that of men they evidently preferred the freedom of the mountains to a condition of servitude. Apparently understanding my purpose they scattered in a wild race to avoid, if possible, being again brought under the heavy yoke, but were finally brought to the corral down the canyon.

Our troubles were not yet ended. On the following day two more wagon wheels collapsed on a steep slope. The train was again halted. The stock was turned out upon the range with its numerous ramifications of ravines and thickets, and before the morning dawned many of the animals were out of our sight.

We were not traveling on schedule time, yet this delay brought forth some outbursts of profanity from those who were accustomed to swear, all of which produced no effect on the cattle scattered up the valleys. On the following morning there began another series of experiences in hunting stock, which afforded a fair ill.u.s.tration of the manner in which the Western Mountaineer of that day lived and tried to sleep.

Taking a heavy horse, which unfortunately was not adapted to mountain climbing, I started alone southward up a long side ravine directed in part by the tracks of the oxen. Having reached rather a high alt.i.tude, and desiring to obtain a better view of the surrounding country, I followed the projecting spur of a barren mountain, which on further advance proved to be unexpectedly steep. In turning a crest of the ridge my horse stumbled, and while I very properly landed on the uphill side, he rolled completely over downward, and after a series of evolutions impossible to describe, became anch.o.r.ed flat upon his back, tightly wedged in against a small solitary quaking asp tree, which fortunately stood upon the edge of an almost perpendicular declivity at whose foot, several hundred feet below, was a wet swamp, in which was a dense thicket of willows, possibly the source of a mountain brook. The feet of the horse were pawing the air. After a few ineffectual efforts to disengage himself he turned his head and cast a pathetic glance downward, evidently realizing his dangerous and helpless position. As a matter of fact, the situation was not pleasant either for the horse or for him who was partly responsible for its plight.

After carefully crawling down to where he was held as in a vise, I unloosed his saddle girths and supporting myself partly by the little tree and partly by the rock beneath it, seized the horse by his foretop and slowly swung him round until his head turned up the slope, and then a.s.sisted him to roll upon his face as a preliminary to an effort to rise upon his feet. He took one more solemn thoughtful look downward toward the gulf beneath him, and then began his struggle for life in the effort to gain a safe footing up the mountain side, to which effort I gave some a.s.sistance from my anchorage. I put my trust in the quaking asp and held to it firmly until the loose stones which the horse dislodged in his scramble had rolled by, and then dragging the saddle, I slowly crawled up by the same pathway and found the animal quietly awaiting my arrival, with an expression upon his countenance that seemed to indicate a desire to give thanks for what was really a narrow escape from a disastrous plunge. He was again saddled, but was not again mounted until we reached a safer footing. Finding myself at a point from which it seemed that the summit of the mountain could now be reached, and led as is the average young man by an irrepressible desire to descend into the deepest hole or reach the top of the highest hill at any time within the range of vision, I determined to complete the ascent and take a look down upon that part of the world. On nearing the summit I observed a dense mist slowly creeping along the eastern slope of the mountain and bridging the ravine with soft billowy folds upon which the bright sunlight rested. When it had risen to within a few hundred feet of my course, the cloud became luminous for an instant. The flash was quickly followed by a sharp report like the discharge of a piece of artillery at hand and the detonation combined with its echo back from another mountain side in one single sharp response. This was quickly repeated three or four times with startling effect. As I have often observed, when thunder storms among mountain peaks float beneath the observer, there is no prolonged roar and rumbling, as when the deep-toned thunder reverberates above lower levels. The prospect of being wrapped in the cold and wet embrace of the rising storm clouds, when upon a difficult and untried mountain pathway, was not cheering.

The sky overhead had been clear, and the bright light intensified the grandeur and beauty of the soft billows below, which seemed as sharply outlined as the waves of the ocean, but there came some scurrying clouds in a higher stratum above the summit which later sent down driving snow flakes, all of which melted in the air on nearly the level where I stood, on coming into contact with the warmer current near the storm below. The lower storm did not rise to the mountain top, but majestically moved onward somewhere by a course the eye could not follow, and on its fleeing skirts was painted a beautiful rainbow, as welcome in its promise of hope as any I have ever seen. The complete arch, perfect in every detail, its bright hues radiant against the dark background, rested in the deep valley far beneath. The sky had again cleared and in many directions the bright sun lit up the sides of the surrounding mountains, and slowly the coveted view of the extensive landscape of mountain and valley unfolded. That storm was a glorious spectacle never to be forgotten. The mountain slopes as revealed when the clouds rolled by were seen to be scarred by narrow ravines dark and gloomy in the path of the retreating storm and in striking contrast with the little patches of glistening snow on many of the northern slopes, relics perhaps of some less recent snow fall. The view from any mountain top inspires the most phlegmatic with some emotion, but on this Utah peak the sense of cold and hunger began in time to a.s.sert itself.

I was supposed, also, to be hunting stock, and not even the dullest ox would go to a rocky barren mountain top to feed. I ventured to attempt a descent by a course other than that first taken and leading down another valley. After a few miles of travel I was surprised by the welcome sight of a little log cabin, the first human habitation discovered during the day. The little home seemed to offer a much desired protection for the coming night. My thoughts upon the subject were frankly expressed to a woman having slightly gray hair, who stood in the open door as I approached. She invited me to hitch my horse and come in. Accepting a proffered chair, I soon found myself in the presence of five comparatively young women, none but the one already mentioned being apparently more than twenty-five years of age. The women, some of whom remained standing, gathered round in a rather expectant att.i.tude, as if desiring to see and hear all that might transpire. Although not a close observer of women's apparel, a single glance showed me that there was a striking similarity in the material and style of their dresses and sun-bonnets.

"Are all these young women members of your family?" I asked.

"Yes, there are seven of us here."

"A fine large family, indeed," said I, "but is the man of the house here?"

"No," replied the older woman, "he is down at Provo with some cattle."

"And you women are up here alone, and I suppose it is your husband who is at Provo," I added with the hope that the answer might shed some daylight upon the relationship which the women held one to another. Some of the women quietly glanced one at another, until one of them replied in the affirmative. Here then the remarkable Scripture had had a remarkable fulfilment: "In those days it shall come to pa.s.s that seven women shall lay hold upon one man."

Two of the seven, who during our preliminary conversation had been outside, now entered the room from the rear, apparently aware that there was a caller in the house. Visits not being frequent events in their secluded home, they would naturally desire to share the interest of any new face, be it welcome or otherwise.

The family was now supposed to be accounted for and present except the _pater-familias_, and to what extent the absent member was ent.i.tled to the distinction of being a father had not yet become clear to me, nor to what extent he was a husband.

I observed that the cabin consisted of a single room, of fairly good size, and what appeared to be a small kitchen under a rudely constructed lean-to, built against the rear of the cottage. On opposite sides of the main room were berths made of balsam poles and constructed in tiers of three, one above another. There was no ceiling or attic above the room, which was open to the sloping roof. There being twelve berths, the provisions for sleeping were manifestly ample, and on being informed that I could be accommodated for the night I decided to remain at least for supper, after which my judgment would be more enlightened. I was fearfully hungry. They would have supper at five o'clock. An old fashioned fall-leaf table was pulled out from the wall, the leaves were lifted up, and the preparation was begun, when I stepped out from the door to take an observation.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DEAD MAN'S FALLS, LITTLE COTTONWOOD, UTAH]

In a running brook I washed my hands and wiped them partly on my clothes, using a soiled handkerchief that had begun to simulate alarmingly the likeness of an old map of Africa, but still discharged in some measure the duty of detergence. Having parted my hair with my pocket comb and being now ready for the feast I strolled round the little log cabin, which to me was invested with almost as much interest as the Yildiz Kiosk when it was the home of Abdul Hamid. A voice at the door announced that supper was ready, and I responded with alacrity.

There were eight seats at the table, two on each side, and all were speedily occupied. The dishes with the food served had all been placed upon the bare table, to be pa.s.sed round. The luxury of a linen spread was not to be expected in an out of the way western mountain cabin, and what with hot tea, brown sugar and milk, cold meat and bread, all seemed appetizing enough.

I soon learned that the family were Mormons, but did not ascertain definitely to what extent that cult had brought them under the sway of one husband, though it appeared probable that three of the young women were still free to form matrimonial alliance.

Women were present in number sufficient to give continuity to the conversation, in the course of which I glanced round at the berths in the room and finally asked where, in case I should remain for the night, they would put me. To them the problem presented no difficulty. In fact, it was not uncommon on the frontier in early days for several families to be sheltered over night in a single room almost as satisfactorily as is now done in a Pullman sleeper, and with as little disturbance from sonorous slumberers who sometimes unwittingly throw their neighbors into a panic. I was present on one occasion when Costello, the well-known rancher in South Park, on a stormy night entertained forty-six sleepers--men and women--in three rooms. He said he believed he could handle two or three more, but it might make it a little crowded.

"Is there another cabin not far away, where the man of the house is likely to be at home?" I asked, when the supper was over. After a little thought one of the women stated that about a mile down the canyon there lived an old fellow, at what was known as the toll gate.

"O yes," said another, "you mean the Scotchman."

The suggestion afforded an opportunity for retreat. Thanking the women, I paid for my supper and received definite instructions concerning the path, as the darkness of evening had begun to settle on the valley. I reached the other little hut, recognizing it first by the firelight shining through the small window. My approach to the cabin was proclaimed by the deep-toned barking of dogs from within. A "h.e.l.lo"

brought the keeper to the door. Driving back the animals, and commanding them to shut up, he gave me an opportunity through the half open door to ask his permission to stay all night with him, which request was granted as a matter of course. Having arranged for some feed for my horse, we entered the hut. The Scotchman, who (I learned later) was well known by many Mormon people, was the sole occupant of the cabin, except that three huge mastiffs shared his company. On entering I took a seat in an uneasy chair before the fire, and the Scotchman, who was uncommunicative and not especially hospitable, soon stretched himself out upon the only bench in the room, wrapped himself up in his blanket, and fell asleep.

The dogs, with half-opened eyes directed toward me as they were stretched before the fireplace, had become reconciled to my presence.

The flickering firelight, which enabled me to write a few sentences in my note book, also exposed a dirty earth floor not covered at any point with boards. I had no blanket and the prospect for repose was dismal. As a diversion I wandered out into the night toward the place where my horse had been hitched, near which I had noticed a small pile of fresh straw, four or five feet in height. It occurred to me that this pile exactly met my requirements, and compared with it the Scotchman's dirt floor was not to be considered for a moment. The sky was now clear, and the air was still. In the distance here and there arose the occasional yelp of timber wolves, doubtless on their regular nocturnal patrol as scavengers. Investigation revealed the presence of pigs, which had burrowed out a comfortable nest in the straw stack. After a few punches, two animals with many grunts of reluctance consented to vacate their bed. I immediately crawled, feet first, quite out of sight into the nest. It was a far better bed than the soldiers had been accustomed to sleep in, during the Civil War. The cares of the day were soon forgotten in slumber, but early in the morning I was suddenly awakened by the jumping of heavy animals upon the straw pile above me and by the angry barking of dogs, the deep baying of which came through the pa.s.sage to my nest. Their noses were soon thrust into the straw at the entrance. The three big mastiffs in the Caledonian's lodge on the previous night had been turned loose for their morning airing and had scented the presence of an intruder in the straw pile. Every word that I spoke to them served but to augment their savage howls and barking. I had often run badgers and other burrowing animals into their holes, but had never before so fully realized the deplorable straits to which I had reduced them.

I managed to extricate my revolver from the belt but remembered that its flash would set the straw on fire, nor did I care to incur the hostility of the surly Scot by shooting one of his dearest friends and protectors.

Already I had had trouble enough. The Highlander's attention was finally attracted by the excited conduct of his dogs and naturally believing that they had covered some big game in the straw pile he urged them on and returned to the cabin for his gun. My voice was smothered and m.u.f.fled by the straw pile and drowned in the incessant howling and barking of the three dogs, and still I would not shoot until they should make an attack. Yelling at the top of my voice I finally made the Scotchman aware that the sound proceeded from a human being and that the import of my entreaty was that he call off his dogs, else I must shoot, and that I was the fellow whom he received the night before. His response inspired me with hope. Laying aside his gun he took one and then another of the savage mastiffs by the tail, pulled them back and fought them off, until at length he got between them and the hole under the straw stack. As I emerged, the vicious beasts made another plunge, but in some way I struggled to my feet, when possibly the excited animals recognized me as the guest of their master and their interest subsided, though for some time they maintained close watch, apparently ready on the slightest hint to renew hostilities. The Scot informed me that his dogs were great on wolves and were well-trained. Nothing in addition to my recent observations was necessary to convince me that the dogs were great on any game.