LETTER V. 79 



scrambled up the bank, and Seth looked over. 

 Only for a moment, though ; then with a serious 

 white face he turned and whispered to the old 

 man : ' S., we don't want them horses !' ' Don't 

 want 'em ! Why, aren't they ours ?' ' No,' said 

 Seth, ' I guess they aren't our horses ; they're 

 bars, blarst 'em ! grizzly bars ; let's git !' And 

 the two old packers ' got ' in a peculiarly rapid 

 and stealthy manner as far as possible from the 

 family party of eleven grizzlies, which Seth had 

 mistaken for the pack animals. 



At Alison's the first real difficulty met me ; 

 all the Indians were either away ' packing,' or at 

 a potlatch ,(i.e., tribal 'drunk'), and no guides 

 seemed likely to be forthcoming, unless it might 

 be a certain Tintinarnous Whisht, a gentleman of 

 whom old S. had a very poor opinion. How- 

 ever, I was not to be daunted ; if the worst came 

 to the worst, I thought I could do without an 

 Indian, and the sight of a splendid mule-deer's 

 head, killed last ' snow ' by Edie Alison, en- 

 couraged me to proceed. The head referred to 

 spanned 2 feet 4^ inches, inside measurement, 

 and numbered twenty-six good points. 



On the day on which I reached Alison's we 

 made a capital drive of 27 miles, and though 

 hoarse and tired from the part I had taken in 

 the day's proceedings, I was well satisfied when 



