But that poor meat was
pretty dry food. However it kept us alive, and we curled up together and
slept, for the night was cool, and we had to make the little blanket do
its best. We thought we ought to find a little game, but we had not seen
any to shoot since we started.
In the morning the trail led us toward the snow, and as we went along, a
brave old crow surprised us by lighting on a bush near the trail, and we
surprised him by killing him with a charge of shot. "Here's your fresh
meat," said Rogers as he put it into his knapsack to cook for supper,
and marched on. As we approached the summit we could see, on the high
mountains south of us, some trees, and when we came near the highest
part of our road there were some juniper trees near it, which was very
encouraging. We crossed over several miles of hard snow, but it
moistened up our moccassins and made them soft and uncomfortable. After
we had turned down the western slope we killed a small hawk. "Here's
your meat" said I, as the poor thin fellow was stowed away for future
grub, to cook with the crow.
When we got out of the snow we had lost the trail again but the hills on
the sides were covered with large brush, and on a higher part of the
mountain south, were some big trees, and we began to think the country
would change for the better pretty soon. We followed down the ravine for
many miles, and when this came out into a larger one, we were greatly
pleased at the prospect, for down the latter came a beautiful little
running brook of clear pure water, singing as it danced over the stones,
a happy song and telling us to drink and drink again, and you may be
sure we did drink, for it had been months and months since we had had
such water, pure, sweet, free from the terrible alkali and stagnant
taste that had been in almost every drop we had seen.
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