We unpacked it, and each of
us, Romer included, loaded a bundle or box in front of his saddle, and
took it up the hill. Then the teams managed the wagon. This incident
happened four times in less than as many miles. The team horses,
having had a rest from hard labor, had softened, and this sudden
return to strenuous pulling had made their shoulders sore. They either
could not or would not pull. We covered less than ten miles that day,
a very discouraging circumstance. We camped in a pine grove close to
the rim, a splendid site that under favorable circumstances would have
been enjoyable. At sunset R.C. and Nielsen and Romer saw a black bear
down under the rim. The incident was so wonderful for Romer that it
brightened my spirits. "A bear! A big bear, Dad!... I saw him! He was
alive! He stood up--like this--wagging his head. Oh! I saw him!"
Our next day's progress was no less than a nightmare. Crawling along,
unpacking and carrying, and packing again, we toiled up and down the
interminable length of three almost impassable miles. When night
overtook us it was in a bad place to camp. No grass, no water! A cold
gale blew out of the west. It roared through the forest. It blew
everything loose away in the darkness. It almost blew us away in our
beds. The stars appeared radiantly coldly white up in the vast blue
windy vault of the sky.
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