26 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 



dark, and one could not see the bottom, I tried to meas- 

 ure its depth, but found it far over my head. 



Already this spring is locally famous for its healing 

 properties as applied to rheumatism. Close beside the 

 pool, on the ridge side, stood a little seven-by-nine log 

 cabin with a yawning fireplace at the farther end. Along 

 the north side of the cabin extended a seven-foot trough, 

 dug out of a big spruce log, with a cavity large enough 

 to contain a man. This was the outfit of an old trapper 

 who had been afflicted with rheumatism, and spent a 

 winter here, treating himself with commendable dili- 

 gence and hot sulphur water. When it was too cold to 

 bathe in the pool he filled his log bath-tub with sulphur- 

 water, heated it with hot stones from his fire, then got 

 in and loafed and invited his soul at 90 degrees or more. 

 A hundred feet farther south stood another and a bet- 

 ter cabin in which my guide, philosopher and friend, 

 Charlie Smith, lived for three months last spring while 

 he cured his rheumatism, at least temporarily. 



Some day in the near future, this spot will be ruined 

 forever by the erection on the ridge of a modern Hot 

 Springs Hotel, with electric lights, telephones, lobster 

 salad and starched linen. Therefore I am glad that we 

 have gambolled in the Sulphur Spring in all its primitive 

 rawness, and that Mr. Phillips shot a coyote from the 

 edge of it immediately after our bath. Our men came 

 out from camp to carry in a deer, and had the disappoint- 

 ment been caused by any one else than the patron saint of 

 Elk River, uncanny things might have been said. 



Charlie Smith and Mack Norboe assured me that 



