136 The Wilderness Hunter 



forming what is called a park country. The higher 

 we went the smaller grew the glades and the denser 

 the woodland; and it began to be very difficult to 

 get the wagon forward. In many places one man 

 had to go ahead to pick out the way and if neces 

 sary do a little chopping and lopping with the axe, 

 while the other followed driving the team. At last 

 we were brought to a standstill, and pitched camp 

 beside a rapid, alder-choked brook in the uppermost 

 of a series of rolling glades, hemmed in by moun 

 tains and the dense coniferous forest. Our tent 

 stood under a grove of pines, close to the brook; 

 at night we built in front of it a big fire of crackling, 

 resinous logs. Our goods were sheltered by the 

 wagon, or covered with a tarpaulin ; we threw down 

 sprays of odorous evergreens to make a resting- 

 place for our bedding; we built small scaffolds on 

 which to dry the flesh of elk and deer. In an hour 

 or two we had round us all the many real comforts 

 of such a little wilderness home. 



Whoever has long roamed and hunted in the wil 

 derness always cherishes with wistful pleasure the 

 memory of some among the countless camps he has 

 made. The camp by the margin of the clear, moun 

 tain-hemmed lake; the camp in the dark and mel 

 ancholy forest, where the gusty wind booms through 

 the tall pine tops; the camp under gnarled cotton- 

 woods, on the bank of a shrunken river, in the 

 midst of endless grassy prairies, of these, and 



