Letters of a Woman Homesteader | Page 7

where the pines
were. The splendor was relieved by a background of sober gray-green
hills, but even on them gay streaks and patches of yellow showed
where rabbit-brush grew. We washed our faces at the spring,--the
grasses that grew around the edge and dipped into the water were
loaded with ice,--our rabbit was done to a turn, so I made some
delicious coffee, Jerrine got herself a can of water, and we breakfasted.
Shortly afterwards we started again. We didn't know where we were
going, but we were on our way.
That day was more toilsome than the last, but a very happy one. The
meadowlarks kept singing like they were glad to see us. But we were
still climbing and soon got beyond the larks and sage chickens and up
into the timber, where there are lots of grouse. We stopped to noon by a
little lake, where I got two small squirrels and a string of trout. We had
some trout for dinner and salted the rest with the squirrels in an empty
can for future use. I was anxious to get a grouse and kept close watch,
but was never quick enough. Our progress was now slower and more
difficult, because in places we could scarcely get through the forest.
Fallen trees were everywhere and we had to avoid the branches, which
was powerful hard to do. Besides, it was quite dusky among the trees
long before night, but it was all so grand and awe-inspiring.
Occasionally there was an opening through which we could see the
snowy peaks, seemingly just beyond us, toward which we were headed.
But when you get among such grandeur you get to feel how little you
are and how foolish is human endeavor, except that which reunites us
with the mighty force called God. I was plumb uncomfortable, because
all my own efforts have always been just to make the best of everything
and to take things as they come.

At last we came to an open side of the mountain where the trees were
scattered. We were facing south and east, and the mountain we were on
sheered away in a dangerous slant. Beyond us still greater wooded
mountains blocked the way, and in the cañon between night had
already fallen. I began to get scary. I could only think of bears and
catamounts, so, as it was five o'clock, we decided to camp. The trees
were immense. The lower branches came clear to the ground and grew
so dense that any tree afforded a splendid shelter from the weather, but
I was nervous and wanted one that would protect us against any
possible attack. At last we found one growing in a crevice of what
seemed to be a sheer wall of rock. Nothing could reach us on two sides,
and in front two large trees had fallen so that I could make a log heap
which would give us warmth and make us safe. So with rising spirits I
unpacked and prepared for the night. I soon had a roaring fire up
against the logs and, cutting away a few branches, let the heat into as
snug a bedroom as any one could wish. The pine needles made as soft a
carpet as the wealthiest could afford. Springs abound in the mountains,
so water was plenty. I staked "Jeems" quite near so that the firelight
would frighten away any wild thing that tried to harm him. Grass was
very plentiful, so when he was made "comfy" I made our bed and fried
our trout. The branches had torn off the bag in which I had my bread,
so it was lost in the forest, but who needs bread when they have good,
mealy potatoes? In a short time we were eating like Lent was just over.
We lost all the glory of the sunset except what we got by reflection,
being on the side of the mountain we were, with the dense woods
between. Big sullen clouds kept drifting over and a wind got lost in the
trees that kept them rocking and groaning in a horrid way. But we were
just as cozy as we could be and rest was as good as anything.
I wish you could once sleep on the kind of bed we enjoyed that night. It
was both soft and firm, with the clean, spicy smell of the pine. The heat
from our big fire came in and we were warm as toast. It was so good to
stretch out and rest. I kept thinking how superior I was since I dared to
take such an outing when so many poor women down in Denver were
bent on making their twenty cents per hour in order that they could
spare a quarter to go