FIRE ON THE MOUNTAINS. 71 



mountain range. About noon, I calculated I was full 

 fifteen miles from the Shoshonee camp and my suffering 

 friend, Joe. I then fastened my animals beneath some 

 shady trees on the banks of a little rivulet that sparkled 

 over a sandy bed, made a slight repast of dried buffalo 

 meat, and set off up the mountain, to see what game I 

 could kill, for fresh food. 



The day was very warm, and the chase of two black- 

 tailed deer led me over such rugged ground, and through 

 such difficult thickets, that, when I at length brought one 

 of them to the ground, I was quite tired, and having se- 

 cnred my game to my person, I sat down upon a rock 

 overlooking the prairie bottom, and fell into a doze. 



When I awoke the the sun had already set ; but, 

 although darkness was fast gathering over the mountains, 

 I was surprised to seea bright light flickering against its 

 sides. A glance assured me that the mountain was on 

 fire, and, starting up, I saw at once the danger of my 

 position. The bottom had been fired but a short distance 

 from where I secured my animals. A dense cloud of 

 smoke was hanging over a gorge, and presently, a light air 

 springing up from the east, a mass of flames shot up into 

 the sky and rolled fiercely up the stream, the belt of 

 dry brush on its banks catching fire and burning like 

 timber. The mountain was already invaded by the de- 

 vouring element, and two wings of flame spread out from 



