28 



Rod, Gun, and Palette in the High Rockies 





'^R»i^e/-At 





Ow the Madison river 



rise out of still water backed up by construction works some 

 distance down stream, lies the river. Twenty paces or so from 

 the angle of the camp is an opening, slightly swampy, where 

 drawn up upon the bank lies a boat a few degrees more open 

 to the unstable element than a leaky sieve, destined to carry us 

 upon projected ducking and fishing expeditions. Frogs scramble 

 into the water as one comes near the margin. 



To the west the sagebrush-covered flat, pointed with a few 

 scattering pines, on which the camp is situated, is bounded by a 

 dense bank of firs interspersed with aspens. Through their tops 

 is visible at intervals the crests of a distant range of mountains 

 covered with fresh fallen snow — the main Madison range — half 

 hidden by drifting cloud through which a doubtful sun struggles 

 mistily. East rises a sagebrush bank that, with a few firs, well 

 shelters the camp. Above this, another flat extends a mile or so 

 east and north, bounded with fir forest. A few hardy adventurers 

 from the main body are scattered irregularly over the flat. 



Following the high bank above the river, there is a curious 

 suggestion of hidden life borne in upon one. One expects any 

 moment to see some dweller of the wild — a bear maybe, or some 

 great elk — disclose himself at the edge of the timber. Expectant 

 eyes are disappointed until, arriving at the edge of the high 



