Memories of a Bear Hunter 



quainted with a good many of the public men of 

 the day, of whom I knew many from the South. 

 After a warm supper at the stage station, 62 about 

 nightfall we set out for the summit of the divide, 

 where the only trouble was likely to be found. 

 When we reached it, the wind was blowing fiercely, 

 filling the air with fine snow and preventing vision 

 for more than fifty or sixty feet. Near this point 

 the road crossed a ravine, then a quarter of a mile 

 wide. Passing teams had packed down the snow 

 in this ravine, but at present the loose snow was 

 drifting constantly, and the road-bed of packed 

 snow now seemed twelve or fifteen feet above 

 the ground. It was a good road, so long as one 

 kept the beaten track, but if the driver failed to do 

 so, the wagon, striking the soft snow, would turn 

 over and with the horses be buried in the soft drift 

 beneath. Along the road, pine saplings had been 

 planted as a guide for all passersby in winter. The 

 drifting and blowing snow had obliterated every 

 sign of the beaten road. 



When we reached this point, the driver was 

 much discouraged by the drifting of the snow. It 

 was bright moonlight, yet the air was so full of 

 fine snow that it was very difficult to see what was 

 before one. However, the driver went some dis- 

 tance along the roadway to see whether he could 



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