188 A NIGHT ON THE LAKE — WATER-FOWL. 



a fish nor the solitary cry of a bird was to be beard, as, in profound 

 darkness, the boat moved on, plunging her bows into the black 

 and sullen waters. As we passed within the shadows of the ob- 

 scure and frowning mountains, the eye was strained in vain to 

 catch some evidence of life. The sense of isolation from every 

 thing living was painfully oppressive. Even the chirp of a cricket 

 would have formed some link with the world of life ; but all was 

 stillness and solitary desolation. 



At daylight we were still fifteen miles from the island, and the 

 boat was ^'hove-to" for breakfast, w^hich consisted of bread and 

 cold bacon, without even a drink of water. Before we passed 

 around the point of Antelope Island, we stopped for a few moments 

 at the little islet near it, where the number of gulls and pelicans 

 was, if possible, greater than we had seen on Gunnison's Island. 

 The whole islet was covered with eggs, chiefly those of gulls, and 

 with innumerable young birds, just hatched, the most of which on 

 our appearance instinctively concealed themselves among the 

 crevices of the rocks, while the parent birds, in countless numbers, 

 anxiously hovered over us, filling the air with their discordant 

 cries. Some young herons and cormorants were also found amid 

 this colony of gulls — the former fierce and full of fight, the latter 

 timid and alarmed, running from their nests to the water, where 

 they endeavoured to conceal themselves by persevering but abor- 

 tive attempts to dive. We filled half a barrel with the eggs, but 

 most of them proved to be bad. 



Stopping for a short time to quench our burning thirst, at a 

 spring breaking forth under a ledge of rocks at the foot of a 

 picturesque little bay on the eastern side of Antelope Island, we 

 reached our point of destination at five o'clock in the afternoon, 

 quite worn down by the incessant toil of nearly thirty-six sleepless 

 hours. 



I was much gratified to learn from the herdsman the safe ar- 

 rival of the party I had despatched to the Uintah Mountains last 

 November on a trading expedition, and that they had brought with 

 them nineteen fine horses. As the party on the western shore 

 were nearly out of provisions, a couple of horses were immediately 

 caught, and, accompanied by a single attendant, I started at once 

 for the city, distant twenty-five miles, leaving directions that a 

 team should follow early in the morning, for the purpose of haul- 

 ing provisions out to the island. We reached our quarters in the 

 city at two in the morning, and retired to rest, thoroughly wearied 



