A Mountain Fraud 
were brought in, the one or two that he had 
caught meantime having escaped. 
The next night, before we crossed the 
divide into Jackson’s Hole through Trail 
Creek Canon, we had a very heavy thunder- 
storm, and in the intervals between the peals 
we could hear Lanahan’s vociferous invoca- 
tions to the various saints he relied upon for 
protection, his appeals mingling with the 
damning he was getting from his tent-mates 
for the disturbance he created. He was so 
much demoralized by the storm, and by the 
chance of overtaking the Indians, who were 
evidently not far ahead of us, that he endured 
all this abuse with perfect meekness, and did 
not recover his usual intrepid bearing until 
the next noon, when he resumed his ostenta- 
tious superintendence of the outfit. 
Our first camp after crossing the divide 
was at Fighting Bear Creek, and was made 
memorable by killing a two-year-old bull 
elk, the toughest of his race; but fresh meat 
had become so desirable that his india-rubber 
qualities were not unfavorably criticized until 
we got something better. 
A man coming down the valley told us 
279 
