I had a couple of hard falls, but I made up my mind I was going to ride that pony or bust, and--I did not bust.
The next evening, looking over toward the west, I saw a truly frontier sight--a line of trappers winding down the hillside with their pack animals.

My mother had often told me of the trappers searching the distant mountains for fur-bearing animals and living a life of fascinating adventure.

Here they were in reality.
While some of the men prepared the skins, others built a fire and began to get a meal.

I watched them cook the dried venison, and was filled with wonder at their method of making bread, which was to wrap the dough about a stick and hold it over the coals till it was ready to eat.

You can imagine my rapture when one of them--a pleasant-faced youth--looked up, and catching sight of me, invited me to share the meal.
Boys are always hungry, but I was especially hungry for such a meal as that.