242 FIELD COLUMBIAN MUSEUM ZOOLOGY, VOL. i. 



had saved him probably from instant death. As it was, he escaped with 

 the loss of one eye, which had struck on a root as he reached the 

 ground. We camped that evening at a deserted ranch, owned by 

 a Swede by the name of Johnson, who, suffering from an attack 

 of gold fever, had gone to the Klondike. The camp was on the 

 bank of the river, about ten feet higher than the water, and a short 

 distance above a canon. This was about one hundred feet wide, 

 with perpendicular walls, between which the river tore along with 

 irresistible strength. In the spring, during floods, huge trees, perhaps 

 thirty feet in circumference, are hurled through this gorge with the 

 power of a catapult, and in a crevasse of the rocks one old forest 

 monarch has been wedged by the power of the furious river, twenty feet 

 above its ordinary level. We remained in this camp a week, and ob- 

 tained a large number of desirable mammals. 



Our route from here was across the river, and at the end 

 of the week the water had fallen sufficiently to permit our 

 horses to cross at a ford a short distance above our present 

 position. Two miles above, on the western bank, we camped 

 near the mouth of a brawling stream that tore down the valley, 

 coming from far in the mountains, and was lost in the rush- 

 ing Elwah. From this point there was no trail, and for the 

 next ten days the men were busy cutting a path through the 

 forest on the mountain sides, until they reached a height where 

 the trees became fewer, and then gradually disappeared at timber 

 line. We were trying to reach the country where the elk were 

 accustomed to pass the summer, just beneath the everlasting snow 

 of the higher range. The forest was primeval, and the individual 

 trees gigantic, many mounting upward for one hundred and fifty feet, 

 perhaps more, without a branch, a massive trunk rising in the air 

 straight as a needle. These magnificent cedars are characteristic 

 of the northwestern forests, and are very impressive from their 

 enormous size. The journey up this trail was a very rough one, 

 hard on men and horses. Two of these the first day indulged in 

 some somersaults, which, fortunately, did no damage to them or 

 their loads, and we eventually arrived at a small pond named Happy 

 Lake, a view of which is here given, and camped. The trail, 

 however, had been so steep, exactly like crawling up one side 

 of a peaked roof, that the loads on the horses had to be materially 

 reduced, as it was impossible for them to climb, heavily loaded 

 as they were, and it was several days before all our impedimenta 

 was gathered into camp. We were now at a height of something 

 between five and six thousand feet; my aneroid gave fifty-three 



