290 SADDLE AND CAMP 



embers to the edge of a mass of dead fallen 

 timber and but for my opportune passing con- 

 siderable destruction might have resulted. 



It was dusk when I reached Mammoth Hot 

 Springs. The sky was heavily clouded, and 

 when I entered the canon below the Springs 

 darkness was so intense I could not see Heart's 

 ears from my seat in the saddle. The river 

 roared at my side, but was wholly invisible, 

 and I had to depend upon the instinct of the 

 horses to keep the road. When I dropped 

 during the afternoon below 7,500 feet altitude 

 I had left the snow behind, and here the footing 

 was dry and hard and traveling, even in the 

 heavy darkness, quite free from danger. 



At eight o'clock I reached the park gate, 

 only to find it closed. A soldier on guard at the 

 station declined to open it and permit me to 

 pass, on the ground that it was against orders 

 to open the gate after seven o'clock. Some ar- 

 gument, however, finally persuaded him to do 

 so, and half an hour later Heart and Button 

 were feeding in a comfortable stable in Gar- 

 diner, Montana, and I was enjoying my supper 

 at a hotel. 



Here I fell in with Deputy Game Wardens 

 P. W. Nelson and Henry Ferguson, who had 

 just brought in a poacher charged with killing 



