File:Outing (1885) (14765923412).jpg

Identifier: outing55newy (find matches)
Title: Outing
Year: 1885 (1880s)
Authors:
Subjects: Leisure Sports Travel
Publisher: (New York : Outing Pub. Co.)
Contributing Library: Tisch Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston Library Consortium Member Libraries

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st their bold,splintered crags to the sky. It is noteasy to put into words the sense of awatchful, inimical Force which besetme in this spot. Something had us inclose survey; something was setting it-self against us, yielding reluctantly, stepby step, to our high-handed wrestingthus far, but immitigable at last, nofurther to be entreated. The authority of this unseen Powerseemed quite obvious to me; of myself,I think I would have sat down andfolded my hands, assenting. Very well,we had striven; the strife was vain; nay,more, was impious, for what right hadwe in this realm of old Wilderness?Let us give up the conflict and die. But fortunately my comrades werecast in a sterner mold than I, and theyhad no sort of intention of dying on theSaskatchewan. Mr. Weston and Mr.Cobell came back, after an hours toilwith their axes, the sound of whoseimperative rapping on the doors of thewilderness had echoed reassuringly, andwe led our horses forth one by one,slowly and cautiously. It is one thing
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THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CAMP SITE OF THE WHOLE TRIP WAS THAT ONWILD FOWL LAKE. 72 THE OUTING MAGAZINE (and not of the easiest) to sit on ahorses back while he clambers over afallen tree; but it is another and harderthing to climb over the fallen tree one-self and then coax ones horse to follow. We toiled along that stubborn trail,wrestling hand to hand with the Force.Our puny strength seemed the blow ofa feather against a granite cliff; I havenever felt aught so inadequate. Yet,somehow, the feather won the day, forwe rounded the bend of the river atlast and came out in a more open re-gion where the hills fell back and thetrail was free to go at large in safety.With a wonderful sense of relief, we re-laxed our strenuous vigilance then, anddropped the reins on our horses necks,letting them take their own way. At distances of ten miles or so, wecame to tight little shacks by the trail, thetrappers caravansaries for his winterswork. They were very small, standingbarely the height of a man from

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