Memories of a Bear Hunter 



train, and on the 4th of July, I left Bozeman 

 for a trip to the Yellowstone Park, intending to go 

 up the valley of the West Gallatin to its head and 

 to return thence by whatever route should prove 

 most feasible. I had with me as packer and cook, 

 Joseph Cochran. 



On the way in we camped for about a week on 

 the head of the West Gallatin, in order to secure 

 a supply of elk meat, which should last us for at 

 least a month. We expected to dry the meat, 

 which must be cut into thin strips and flakes and 

 exposed to the air or sun, a smoke being kept up 

 beneath it to keep the flies off. In order to look 

 out a route from the head of this stream it was 

 necessary to ascend one of the mountain peaks to 

 the east. From there it seemed evident that we 

 must go down into the valley of the Madison River 

 above the upper canon, and thence up one of its 

 tributaries, the Firehole, to the Upper and Lower 

 Geyser Basins. As I was going down from my 

 point of lookout, I followed a small creek with an 

 occasional patch of willows at its forks, and from 

 one of these a cow elk rose, followed by her calf. 

 The cow, not at all alarmed, stopped within fifty 

 yards of me, and the calf, overtaking her, began 

 to pull at its mother's udder. As I was wonder- 

 ing at their lack of suspicion, another cow rose 



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