The same afternoon Basor went away taking letters from us with him to be sent to Salt Lake.

One of the special things he had brought was three long, narrow pieces of flat iron made by the Agency blacksmith from old wagon tires, for the keels of the boats, which were badly worn by scraping on shoals and rocks in our portaging and letting-down operations.
On the next Monday, Cap., Steward, and I with five days' rations on our backs as well as blankets enough for the warm nights, and our rifles, started on a journey up White River to a place called Goblin City by one of the earlier explorers who had crossed the valley.

As we were going through some heavy willows about noon, I discovered standing still before me and not a hundred feet away the finest stag I have ever seen.
He stood like a Landseer picture, head erect and alert with huge branching antlers poised in the air.

He was listening to my companions who were a little distance from me.

My gun being tied to my pack for easy travelling I could not quickly extricate it and before I could bring it to bear he dashed through the willows and a sensible shot was impossible.