A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he invested a week just meandering around, discovering a few stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would simply buy one from a restaurant. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather turning on him the higher he went, however he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather condition change or the persistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting no place quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear.