An Elk-Hunt at Two-Ocean Pass 213 



mountain sides, or among bowlders and over fallen 

 logs. 



As our way was so rough, we found that we had 

 to halt at least once every hour to fix the packs. 

 Moreover, we at the head of the column were con 

 tinually being appealed to for help by the unfortu 

 nates in the rear. First it would be &quot;that white- 

 eyed cayuse; one side of its pack s down!&quot; then we 

 would be notified that the saddle-blanket of the &quot;lop- 

 eared Indian buckskin&quot; had slipped back; then a 

 shout &quot;Look out for the pinto!&quot; would be fol 

 lowed by that pleasing beast s appearance, bucking 

 and squealing, smashing dead timber, and scattering 

 its load to the four winds. It was no easy task 

 to get the horses across some of the boggy places 

 without miring ; or to force them through the denser 

 portions of the forest, where there was much down 

 timber. Riding with a pack-train, day in and day out, 

 becomes both monotonous and irritating, unless one 

 is upheld by the hope of a game-country ahead, or 

 by the delight of exploration of the unknown. Yet 

 when buoyed by such a hope, there is pleasure in 

 taking a train across so beautiful and wild a country 

 as that which lay on the threshold of our hunting 

 grounds in the Shoshones. We went over moun 

 tain passes, with ranges of scalped peaks on either 

 hand; we skirted the edges of lovely lakes, and of 

 streams with bowlder-strewn beds; we plunged into 

 depths of sombre woodland, broken by wet prairies. 



