TWIN BABIES. 45 



north in Oregon. But a railroad has now 

 taken the place of that tortuous old pack- 

 trail, and you can whisk through these wild 

 and woody mountains, and away on down 

 through Oregon and up through Washing- 

 ton, Montana, Dakota, Minnesota, Wiscon- 

 sin and on to Chicago without even once 

 getting out of your car, if you like. Yet 

 such a persistent ride is not probable, for 

 fish, pheasants, deer, elk, and bear still 

 abound here in their ancient haunts, and 

 the temptation to get out and fish or hunt 

 is too great to be resisted. 



This place where the baby bears were 

 found was first owned by three men 

 or, rather, by two men and a boy. One 

 of the men was known as Mountain Joe. 

 He had once been a guide in the service of 

 General Fremont, but he was now a 

 drunken fellow and spent most of his time 

 at the trading post, twenty miles down the 

 river. He is now an old man, almost blind, 

 and lives in Oregon City, on a pension re- 

 ceived as a soldier of the Mexican war. The 



