But failing to overtake my
companion, and taking for granted that he had missed his way,
I halted when I reached a stream, threw off the packs, let
the animals loose, rolled myself in my blanket, and shut my
eyes upon a trying day.
Nothing happens but the unexpected. Daylight woke me.
Samson, still in his rugs, was but a couple of hundred yards
further up the stream. In the afternoon of the third day we
fell in with William. He had cut himself a long willow wand
and was fishing for trout, of which he had caught several in
the upper reaches of the Sweetwater. He threw down his rod,
hastened to welcome our arrival, and at once begged leave to
join us. He was already sick of solitude. He had come
across Potter and Morris, who had left him that morning.
They had been visited by wolves in the night, (I too had been
awakened by their howlings,) and poor William did not relish
the thought of the mountains alone, with his one little white
mule - which he called 'Cream.' He promised to do his utmost
to help with the packing, and 'not cost us a cent.' I did
not tell him how my heart yearned towards him, and how
miserably my courage had oozed away since we parted, but made
a favour of his request, and granted it. The gain, so long
as it lasted, was incalculable.
The summit of the South Pass is between 8000 and 9000 feet
above the level of the Gulf of Mexico. The Pass itself is
many miles broad, undulating on the surface, but not
abruptly. The peaks of the Wind River Chain, immediately to
the north, are covered with snow; and as we gradually got
into the misty atmosphere we felt the cold severely. The
lariats - made of raw hide - became rods of ice; and the poor
animals, whose backs were masses of festering raws, suffered
terribly from exposure. It was interesting to come upon
proofs of the 'divide' within a mile of the most elevated
point in the pass. From the Hudson to this spot, all waters
had flowed eastward; now suddenly every little rivulet was
making for the Pacific.
The descent is as gradual as the rise. On the first day of
it we lost two animals, a mule and Samson's spare horse. The
latter, never equal to the heavy weight of its owner, could
go no further; and the dreadful state of the mule's back
rendered packing a brutality. Morris and Potter, who passed
us a few days later, told us they had seen the horse dead,
and partially eaten by wolves; the mule they had shot to put
it out of its misery.
In due course we reached Fort Hall, a trading post of the
Hudson's Bay Company, some 200 miles to the north-west of the
South Pass. Sir George Simpson, Chairman of that Company,
had given me letters, which ensured the assistance of its
servants.
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