THE GAME OF THE HIGH PEAKS: THE WHITE GOAT 



177 



was as hard work as any that I had ever undertaken. Both Merrifield and 

 I were accustomed to a life in the saddle, and although we had varied it with 

 an occasional long walk after deer or sheep, yet we were utterly unable to 



cope with the Missourian when it came to mountaineering. When we had 

 previously hunted, in the Big Horn Mountains, we had found stout moc- 

 casins most comfortable, and extremely useful for still-hunting through the 

 great woods and among the open glades; but the multitudinous sharp 

 rocks and sheer, cliff-like slopes of the Cceur d'Alene rendered our moc- 

 casins absolutely useless, for the first day's tramp bruised our feet till they 

 were sore and slit our foot-gear into ribbons, besides tearing our clothes. 

 Merrifield was then crippled, having nothing else but his cowboy boots ; 

 fortunately, I had taken in addition a pair of shoes with soles thickly studded 

 with nails. 



We would start immediately after breakfast each morning, carrying a 



