A GOLDEN DAY ON FORDING RIVER 27 



when the wind is easterly, the odor of the Sulphur Spring 

 can plainly be detected at the top of the mountain on the 

 western side of Elk River, fully three miles away. 



From our camp in the Elk Valley, Fording River 

 lies eastward, beyond a mountain and miles away. Mr. 

 Phillips and Mack Norboe set out to walk to the fishing- 

 place, in order to hunt on the way, for mule deer. We 

 were to meet at noon at Josephine Falls. Charlie and I 

 rode, in order to have horses on which to carry home 

 the fish. 



We entered the meadow, and rode north the entire 

 length of it, to where it terminates in a beautiful park- 

 like tract of scattered spruces and pines. Then we 

 climbed the easterly ridge, up through an open growth 

 of more pines and spruces, birch and quaking asp, up 

 and up, for at least a thousand feet. After a long ride 

 on the ridge side and over its northern crest, we entered 

 an awful tangle of fallen timber and brush. We wound 

 to and fro, up and down, to find a practicable route for 

 the horses. That the faithful animals did not break 

 their legs was a source of wonderment, and their skill 

 in getting over tree-trunks without accident was really 

 remarkable. 



At last we reached the edge of the plateau we had 

 painfully crossed, and saw below us a deep and narrow 

 valley, with a very steep pitch downward. On its far- 

 ther side were shaly perpendicular bluffs, rising high. 

 Fortunately the ground was soft, and we were able to 

 ride down with little difficulty. The descent seemed 

 endless, but we zigzagged lower and lower until at last 



