As we did not rise until late no delay was made, but when each had his
bag on his back and a nugget of jerk in his hand we started up the side
of the mountain as quiet as two deaf mutes. There was no water to be
had; our camp kettle had been left at the fort, and through my stupidity
the cup had become useless, therefore we were obliged to eat the icy
snow or endure the thirst. No new snow had yet fallen in this high
altitude although it was now nearing the end of October. These mountains
were then heavily covered with pine and fir but the timber was not
large. In some places where the snow had melted away, short green grass
was found quite close to great banks of snow.
At about twelve o'clock we reached the summit of the great Uinta range,
and I, being a little in advance of my still mute companion, halted to
take a survey of the field before me. The top of the range here is bare
of timber and there was no snow. When Field came up I broke the silence
which had lasted since the little unpleasantness of the night before, by
suggesting that we attempt to cross the snow-covered range of mountains
which now appeared north of us and probably fifty miles away, through
what appeared to be a gap or low place in the great range of mountains.
He replied, "You may go that way if you want to, but I am going this
way," pointing in another direction and quickly started off at an angle
of about 45 degrees to the right, or directly north-east. I also started
immediately, and when we were a few rods apart I said, "Good-by; we may
not meet again very soon.
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