16 INTRODUCTION. 



stout limb for what is usually called a "back-log." But 

 the fire was kindled, and with the ramrod of my rifle I 

 spitted the steaks for broiling. The mules were tethered 

 so as to allow them plenty of grazing room, and then my 

 mountain camp was formed. And now while the meat is 

 simmering before the fire, and I am preparing my sea- 

 soning, I can find time to let the reader know where I 

 am, how I got there, and what is my object. 



My camp was within about twenty miles of the Great 

 South Pass, in the Rocky Mountains, at the foot of a 

 narrow rugged path, worn by hunters and war-parties of 

 Indians. At this point, the mountains were neither lofty 

 nor steep, but very rocky and bare. The rivulet of which 

 I have spoken was one of the many which went to form 

 the Sweet Water River. From the foot of the mountain 

 an undulating plain stretched away, covered with a short 

 parched grass. Occasionally a small band of buffaloes, 

 a straggling deer, or some gaunt wolves would appear in 

 the distance, linger awhile, and then hurry out of sight, 

 while prairie-dogs, chameleons, and enormous beetles 

 were constantly to be seen, playing among the grass and 

 sand. From my camp, I 'could see the Wind River 

 Mountains, glittering in mantles of snow, while the Sweet 

 Water Mountain capped in clouds, looked gray and cool, 

 in striking contrast with the plain at its foot. 



So much for my situation. As to the wherefore of my 



