A Trip From Camp 



43 



or three wiping off the 

 paint and cleaning them- 

 selves. They mistook the 

 patches of bright pigment 

 for late wild flowers, I 

 assumed. It was notice- 

 able that they did not, 

 having cleaned themselves, 

 repeat the mistake. It was 

 a long, lonely, perfect 

 afternoon, with such a love- 

 liness of prairie, butte, still 

 river, purple and rose 

 mountains, and towering 

 cloud about one as fed to 

 the full a hungry soul. 



Mallards, canvasback, 

 red-head, green-winged teal, 

 and wild geese were re- 

 ported by the fisher and 

 gunman, who returned at 



^'Arthur landed his fish" 



sundown with four mallards, six jacksnipe, one fine cut-throat 

 trout (Salmo Clarkii) and a grayling. The trout, between three 

 and three and one-half pounds, was struck by Art at the same 

 moment that William lifted his gun on a fine mallard. The mal- 

 lard dropped, and as William rowed to get the bird, Arthur landed 

 his fish. Beaver cuttings were reported. 



On the road back to camp there came a most splendid burst 

 of rayed light from behind the mountains to the west, which, strik- 

 ing Mount Holmes, made it to glow with a deep rose light against 

 the great drifts of gray clouds that filled the northern sky. The 

 valley below was filled with a purplish haze, slightly broken here 

 and there by fields of sage. The haze deepened in tone toward 

 the northern distance till finally it merged into the deep violet- 

 gray of the pine forests at the base of the mountain. From this 

 pitch of tone the main peak rose in a jewel-like richness of deep 

 toned light that crowned the day with a slowly fading glory. 



Reaching camp at dark, the flame of the campfire, seen 

 through the trees as we approached seemed uncommonly homelike 



