86 Life of a Fossil Hunter 



precipices abutted on the Missouri twelve hundred 

 feet below. 



This valley, Cope told us, was to be our camping 

 ground for some time to come, as a steamboat snub- 

 bing-post was situated here. When I learned this, 

 I threw out my roll of blankets and started it on its 

 way to camp. It bounded down the ravine, leaping 

 high in the air from boulder to boulder, and never 

 stopped until it was caught in a bunch of the cactus 

 that covered the level plain below. 



Everything but the Professor's trunk was un- 

 loaded, and the wagon pulled to the head of the 

 gulch, where Isaac took charge of the tongue, and 

 the Professor and I, each tying a picket rope to the 

 hind axle and making a half-hitch to a convenient 

 sapling, let the wagon slowly down the hill. When 

 the rope was paid out, Isaac blocked the wheels with 

 stones, and we advanced for another hitch, continu- 

 ing in this way until we reached the bottom. The 

 baggage was then packed down, and, after a space 

 had been cleared of cactus, our tent was pitched. 

 It was not until long after midnight that we sat 

 down to cook our meal, and when we rolled into our 

 blankets we slept the sleep of utter exhaustion. 



Not only during this trip, but all through our 

 stay in the Bad Lands, we were tormented by 

 myriads of black gnats, which got under our hat 

 rims and shirt sleeves, and produced sores that gave 



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