prepared for our "packtrip" into the Yellowstone Park by cutting down 

 our baggage to the irreducible minimum. As everything needed by 

 twenty men for three weeks had to be carried on the backs of eight 

 mules and on our own mounts, we had to go flying light and to subsist 

 entirely on the field ration, supplemented by such fish and game as we 

 could get. The army pack-saddle is the aparejo, borrowed from the 

 Mexicans, and it requires very thick and soft blankets, which supple- 

 mented our bedding in a most acceptable way, for the nights were 

 already very cold in the mountains. Our great Sibley tent had to be 

 replaced by the little shelter tents, each man carrying a half-tent under 

 his saddle. For personal baggage other than bedding, we were Hmited 

 to what we could carry in our saddle-pockets; a change of underwear, 

 some stockings, hair brush and tooth brush, were all that any one might 

 have. Our rations consisted of hard bread, most nourishing and palatable 

 of food, bacon, beans and coffee, or tea for such as preferred it. Every- 

 thing that could be dispensed with was sent back to Fort Keogh in the 

 wagon. 



The route which we meant to take into the Park, was to follow up 

 to its head the north fork of the Stinking Water which, above the 

 sulphur springs, was a clear mountain torrent and did not at all deserve 

 its unpleasant name. Then to cross the high mountains, variously called 

 the Absaroka, or Shoshone range. In the latest official maps which we 

 had been able to get, the country was marked "unexplored region," 

 though General Howard and his command had gone through it on 

 their long pursuit of the Nez Perce Indians from Oregon in 1877. The 

 Absaroka range formed the great mountain wall, which blocked Captain 

 Raynold's advance in 1855: Jim Bridger, who was acting as his guide, 

 assured him that "a bird couldn't fly over that range, unless he carried 

 his rations with him." We had very great difficulty in getting over, 

 sometimes labouring a whole day to make five miles, but we crossed 

 it eventually and felt that the wonders of the scenery richly repaid us 

 for all our toils. 



Our trip through the Yellowstone Park was a dream of fascination. 

 On crossing the mountains, we came on the East Fork, now called the 

 Lamar River, and followed that, past the petrified forests, to the main 

 stream, which we crossed at Baronette's bridge and then, turning south, 

 upstream, we went to the canyon, the falls, the lake and thence to the 

 Upper Geyser Basin. On the lake beach my Brother picked up a flint 

 arrowpoint and handed it to White Bear, asking him if he had ever 

 seen anything like that before. No, he never had. Did he know what 



