VI. 



oKmonLcr tFie Mounfainx^. 



LJTY^L^T" E reached the South Pass on the 1st of October. 

 "^ *" I had thought this was something like the 



Devil's Gate on a large scale, a mountain 

 walled gorge, but it was very different. Imagine a nearly 

 level desert plain, averaging a mile in width, bounded on 

 either side by a low range of hills, beyond which extends a 

 rolling country from ten to twenty miles, until it reaches a 

 range of lofty bleak mountains — and you can form an idea 

 of the best Rocky Mountain pass. About two miles to our 

 right we could see the valley of the Sweet Water, which we 

 were leaving. The snowy peaks of the Wind River Moun- 

 tains, which rose far to the north of us, were glittering in the 

 sun's rays, while to the south, rising like a huge barrier, 

 we saw Table Mountain. All around, as far as the eye could 

 reach, was a scene of wild desolation. 



We nooned at the Pacific Spring, which is a short distance 

 west of the culminating point of our route. This is a morass 

 of twenty acres, vividly green and with a sluggish stream 

 running through it. When I first saw this meadow I thought 

 we had a nice corralling place. We camped on the southern 

 shore. As soon as the oxen were loosened, they broke in a 

 body for this deceitful meadow, in which many of them were 

 soon floundering and unable to get out. We dragged them 



(86) 



