MEMORIES OF A BEAR HUNTER 



On Friday, July 14, 1876, I left Minneapolis, 

 for Bismarck, Dakota, and the country of the 

 Upper Missouri, and the next evening reached 

 Fargo, the crossing of the Red River of the North, 

 Here I met the Episcopal Bishop of Saskatchewan, 

 on the way to his bishopric in the Northwest Ter- 

 ritories. His residence, 600 miles west of Fort 

 Garry, or Winnipeg, covered a very large district. 

 The winter before he had traveled two thousand 

 miles by dog-train, his team consisting of three or 

 four dogs, which covered about forty miles a day. 

 He camped where night found him, sleeping on 

 the snow. His food three times a day was pem- 

 mican, tea and frying-pan bread. 



On Tuesday morning I left for Bismarck, about 

 two hundred miles distant, reaching there that 

 night. The plain over which we passed was gen- 

 erally level, and the country looked bald, gloomy 

 and grand, without a tree, except on the streams. 

 In this loneliness and monotony it reminded me of 

 the grand prairie west of the Cross Timbers of 



is 



