sheep simply destroy the country and turn it into a desert. We were 

 fortunate in finding a camp-site which the sheep had not yet devastated 

 and which was within riding distance of our work. The summer was 

 very dry and we had but a single rain in two months, but all summer 

 long we lived in a veil of smoke from the forest fires in the Cascade 

 Mountains to the west of us. This curtain of smoke sometimes lifted, 

 especially after a little shower, and made it possible for the photographer 

 to get pictures; by perseverance, he managed to secure a fine series. 



This photographer was Philip Ashton Rollins, of the Class of 1889, 

 whose books on the cowboy have attracted such wide and favourable 

 attention. That summer there began a friendship between Rollins and 

 myself which has lasted till the present day, and to his generosity I owe 

 the opportunity of accomplishing much work. 



We found the cUmate less stimulating than on the high plateaus and 

 plains of Wyoming and Dakota. In one letter I wrote: "Our progress 

 was slow and we did not reach camp until long after dark, men and 

 horses completely used up. The great difference that I notice between 

 the climate of eastern Oregon and that of the regions where I have 

 worked before, is that here one gets fagged out more easily and that 

 the horses cannot do the same amount of work." Nevertheless, we ac- 

 complished a great deal, largely because we had few long marches to 

 make. "The smoke from the forest fires in the mountains is becoming 

 more and more dense every day. I am afraid that Rollins' photographs 

 will be sadly interfered with and that will be a great pity, as this is a 

 very curious and picturesque region and some parts of it are eloquent 

 lectures on geology." 



Before leaving the Cove, I must tell of a small adventure that I had, 

 that might have had an unpleasant ending: it was almost a repetition 

 of Osborn's experience on the upper Green River eleven years before, 

 of which I told in a previous chapter (p. 80). It was the same story of 

 the intense curiosity aroused in the half-wild range cattle by the sight of 

 a man on foot; they do not attack a pedestrian, but close in on him, 

 until he is thrown down and trampled to death. On this occasion, I 

 was walking across a flat in the Cove, carrying a heavy load of fossils 

 on my back. I saw a number of cattle scattered about and grazing and 

 paid no attention to them. As they caught sight of me, however, they 

 all, with one consent, began to move toward me and soon I was en- 

 circled by a ring of them, which kept closing in. I was badly scared, but 

 knew that something would have to be done and that right speedily 

 and, therefore, tried the only stratagem I could think of. Putting down 



C 176 ] 



