Camping and Hunting in the Shoshone 



nothing but ride for months ; all our 

 hunting had been on horseback, a poor 

 preparation for work after goats. To 

 make a long story short, those Indians 

 started off on the dead-run. We had no 

 fresh meat, I must say in extenuation of 

 this proceeding. I fancied I could run if 

 they could ; and, too proud to confess my 

 forebodings, I started off in their wake. 

 Anyone who has tried running in a 

 swampy Selkirk valley will sympathize 

 with the experience I went through for 

 the next fifteen minutes, and none who 

 have not can. Suffice it to say, I got to 

 the foot of the steep a badly pumped lad. 

 There a youthful, fourteen-year-old ur- 

 chin, weighing about ninety pounds I 

 should say, and looking as fresh as paint, 

 offered to carry my thirteen-pound double- 

 barrelled Rigby. I blessed him, and up 

 we went, still at the run. What devilish 

 power got into those Indians' legs I can- 

 not to this day say ; I only know that I 

 went till first I could not speak, and then 

 I could not breathe, and then I could not 

 see ; and when vision returned I was 

 alone, without even the poor satisfaction 

 of possessing a useless rifle. Of course, I 

 never saw the goats again till they carried 

 them into camp. But I learned two les- 



74 



