They therefore decided, as the only feasible plan, to make camp where they were and start up early the next morning, leaving their horses behind. They made all possible preparations that night, and the next morning arose at four o'clock. By sunrise they had breakfasted, and with their packs, consisting of two pairs of blankets each and a two days' supply of cooked food, they started. They did not dare picket or hobble their horses, as either would give the wild beasts a chance to attack and kill them, and could only trust to luck, an abundant supply of good grass and water, and the well-known attachment which nearly all Western horses feel for a camp, to keep them there until their return.
After a hard day's climb they came upon abundant signs of goats about the middle of the afternoon, and, preparing a temporary bivouac under a shelving rock, they deposited their loads, made a pot of coffee, ate a hearty dinner, and started out to look for the game. They had not gone far when Mr. Westlake sighted a large, handsome male goat standing on the top of a cliff, and approaching within easy rifle range he fired and killed it. It fell some twenty or thirty feet, and lodged behind a projecting slab of granite. It was secured after considerable hard work, hastily skinned, and the skin and some of the best cuts of the meat carried to their temporary camp. Night was now approaching, and the hunters set about preparing a supply of wood. There were numerous dead pine and cedar trees, of stunted growth and peculiar shapes, standing and lying among the rocks, and a generous supply was soon provided. Next, a large quantity of cedar boughs were cut, brought in and spread under the overhanging rock, to a depth of a foot or more. On these the blankets were spread, and the hunters had a bed which many a tired lodger in Eastern city hotels might well envy them. By building a rousing fire in front, which was reflected against the rock wall behind them, and by occasionally replenishing it during the night, they slept comfortably, though the temperature ran several degrees below zero.
Early the next morning both men started out in search of a female goat to complete their undertaking. Nearly two hours had been spent in hunting, when the Indian found a fresh track in the snow some distance above their temporary camp. He followed it until it led in among a forest of rent and jagged cliffs of granite, and Westlake, who was some distance away, seeing by the Indian's motions that he was on a trail, started toward him. When within a few feet of where he had last seen the Indian he heard the report of his rifle, and a shout announced that his shot had been successful. Mr. Westlake followed on into the chasm from whence the report came and saw the Indian attempting to scale the side of a nearly perpendicular wall of rock, stepping cautiously from niche to niche and shelf to shelf; holding on with his hands to every projecting point that afforded him any assistance. He finally reached the top of the ledge, and reaching over caught hold of the now lifeless body of the goat that he had killed, and drew it toward him. But when it swung off from the top of the ledge its weight and the consequent strain on his muscular power was greater than the Indian had anticipated, and before he had time to let go of the carcass and save himself his slight hold on the rock was torn loose, and uttering a wild shriek he fell a distance of nearly sixty feet, striking on a heap of broken rocks! He was instantly killed.