LETTER IV. 57 



met a ' bald-faced 'un,' I was sorely afraid I 

 should never have a chance of following his 

 advice. However, I started next morning some 

 time before my men on the young buckskin mare 

 which old S. said was a good one, but not 

 bridle-wise (i.e., broke), in the hope that per- 

 chance, if I kept out of earshot of the bells of the 

 pack-train, I might at least meet skymaquist (the 

 black bear), even if his cousin kheelounha (the 

 grizzly) should not honour me with an interview. 



The trail through the Hope Mountains leads 

 through heavily-timbered gorges, at the bottom 

 of which run mountain-streams, while above you 

 rise the peaks towards which climb dense forests 

 of cedar and pine. 



At first I trotted along a good level road 

 through a low wood of young timber, through 

 which the morning sun shone cheerily. From 

 time to time my horse and I even indulged in a 

 canter from pure good spirits, and to get away 

 from the bells. Here and there we passed old 

 camping-grounds, where packers or cattle-men 

 had made a night of it. 



Grouse flustered up among the trees by the 

 roadside ; the stream below glittered as it ran, 

 the snow on one high peak gleamed like silver in 

 the sky, and the sun glowed through the maple- 

 leaves as if they were red wine. 



