When we reached it the bare tops of the mountains were still brightened with sunshine.The little river was breaking with a vehement and angry current from its dark prison.There was something in the near vicinity of the mountains, in the loud surging of the rapids, wonderfully cheering and exhilarating; for although once as familiar as home itself, they had been for months strangers to my experience.There was a rich grass-plot by the river's bank, surrounded by low ridges, which would effectually screen ourselves and our fire from the sight of wandering Indians.Here among the grass I observed numerous circles of large stones, which, as Raymond said, were traces of a Dakota winter encampment.We lay down and did not awake till the sun was up.A large rock projected from the shore, and behind it the deep water was slowly eddying round and round.The temptation was irresistible.I threw off my clothes, leaped in, suffered myself to be borne once round with the current, and then, seizing the strong root of a water plant, drew myself to the shore.The effect was so invigorating and refreshing that Imistook it for returning health."Pauline," thought I, as I led the little mare up to be saddled, "only thrive as I do, and you and Iwill have sport yet among the buffalo beyond these mountains." But scarcely were we mounted and on our way before the momentary glow passed.Again I hung as usual in my seat, scarcely able to hold myself erect.
"Look yonder," said Raymond; "you see that big hollow there; the Indians must have gone that way, if they went anywhere about here."We reached the gap, which was like a deep notch cut into the mountain ridge, and here we soon discerned an ant-hill furrowed with the mark of a lodge-pole.This was quite enough; there could be no doubt now.
As we rode on, the opening growing narrower, the Indians had been compelled to march in closer order, and the traces became numerous and distinct.The gap terminated in a rocky gateway, leading into a rough passage upward, between two precipitous mountains.Here grass and weeds were bruised to fragments by the throng that had passed through.We moved slowly over the rocks, up the passage; and in this toilsome manner we advanced for an hour or two, bare precipices, hundreds of feet high, shooting up on either hand.Raymond, with his hardy mule, was a few rods before me, when we came to the foot of an ascent steeper than the rest, and which I trusted might prove the highest point of the defile.Pauline strained upward for a few yards, moaning and stumbling, and then came to a dead stop, unable to proceed further.I dismounted, and attempted to lead her; but my own exhausted strength soon gave out; so I loosened the trail-rope from her neck, and tying it round my arm, crawled up on my hands and knees.I gained the top, totally exhausted, the sweat drops trickling from my forehead.Pauline stood like a statue by my side, her shadow falling upon the scorching rock; and in this shade, for there was no other, I lay for some time, scarcely able to move a limb.All around the black crags, sharp as needles at the top, stood glowing in the sun, without a tree, or a bush, or a blade of grass, to cover their precipitous sides.The whole scene seemed parched with a pitiless, insufferable heat.
After a while I could mount again, and we moved on, descending the rocky defile on its western side.Thinking of that morning's journey, it has sometimes seemed to me that there was something ridiculous in my position; a man, armed to the teeth, but wholly unable to fight, and equally so to run away, traversing a dangerous wilderness, on a sick horse.But these thoughts were retrospective, for at the time I was in too grave a mood to entertain a very lively sense of the ludicrous.
Raymond's saddle-girth slipped; and while I proceeded he was stopping behind to repair the mischief.I came to the top of a little declivity, where a most welcome sight greeted my eye; a nook of fresh green grass nestled among the cliffs, sunny clumps of bushes on one side, and shaggy old pine trees leaning forward from the rocks on the other.A shrill, familiar voice saluted me, and recalled me to days of boyhood; that of the insect called the "locust" by New England schoolboys, which was fast clinging among the heated boughs of the old pine trees.Then, too, as I passed the bushes, the low sound of falling water reached my ear.Pauline turned of her own accord, and pushing through the boughs we found a black rock, over-arched by the cool green canopy.An icy stream was pouring from its side into a wide basin of white sand, from whence it had no visible outlet, but filtered through into the soil below.While I filled a tin cup at the spring, Pauline was eagerly plunging her head deep in the pool.
Other visitors had been there before us.All around in the soft soil were the footprints of elk, deer, and the Rocky Mountain sheep; and the grizzly bear too had left the recent prints of his broad foot, with its frightful array of claws.Among these mountains was his home.
Soon after leaving the spring we found a little grassy plain, encircled by the mountains, and marked, to our great joy, with all the traces of an Indian camp.Raymond's practiced eye detected certain signs by which he recognized the spot where Reynal's lodge had been pitched and his horses picketed.I approached, and stood looking at the place.Reynal and I had, I believe, hardly a feeling in common.I disliked the fellow, and it perplexed me a good deal to understand why I should look with so much interest on the ashes of his fire, when between him and me there seemed no other bond of sympathy than the slender and precarious one of a kindred race.
