Memories of a Bear Hunter 



valley of a large creek, afterward named Jack 

 Creek. We came on two mountain sheep, one of 

 which I killed. 



I had enjoyed the ride so much that, in the 

 afternoon, I returned with the boys for the meat, 

 and after it was lashed on the pack horse, I went 

 further up the valley at the base of the mountain, 

 telling the boys that I would return by another 

 pass. Fifteen or twenty minutes after parting, it 

 became necessary to cross a small brooklet, the bed 

 of which was boggy, as in these mountains is often 

 the case. The distance across the wide place was 

 only ten or twelve feet. Trusting the mud was not 

 too deep, I rode Kate in, and she was soon up 

 to her belly in soft mud. As she floundered about 

 trying to extricate herself, she fell over on her right 

 side with her body and back downstream, catching 

 my right leg under her. Fortunately there were no 

 boulders, and the soft mud was so deep that my 

 thigh was pressed down into the mire without seri- 

 ous injury, but my person, up to the hips, was deep 

 in the mud. As the mare lay, her body was much 

 lower than her feet, which made it more difficult 

 for her to extricate herself. After struggling 

 awhile, I spoke to her and she quieted down. I 

 placed my left foot, then free, against the horn of 

 the saddle and pressed against it with all my force. 



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