52 Rod, Gun, and Palette in the High Rockies 



hunters played some more rhum to their entire content, the 

 continual interest of Fred and the polite tolerance of the artist. 



The artist was rebuked by the camp colonel for being in- 

 sufficiently provided with socks, and suffered a kindly criticism 

 of the weight and quality of the blankets he had provided him- 

 self with. As it appeared that one or two more might have made 

 good their deficiency of weight and substance, he was assured 

 by Fred that "when you comes into this country the thing you 

 need most darn bad is a good pack — golly, you should have a 

 big pack — und it is better you should haf one blanket too many 

 than not enough by one ven you needs him most." Also after 

 supper the artist was warned by the same friendly mentor that 

 he should not "sdick your feet oudt of der tent, or, py golly, 

 you gets them cold again as you did last night." From this Fred 

 proceeded to a mention of a winter camp in 50° minus, as an 

 ordinary experience in which was moisture formed frost some 

 three inches thick on the under side of the tent roof, "und if 

 you touch him, py golly, down she comes, und knocks der stuffing 

 oudt of you." 



From the artist this brought a tale of a western friend who 

 somewhere in the Canadian Selkirks received a military dig- 

 nitary from home who was a big game hunter, and who had 

 unwisely set his heart on a grizzly bear hide in the dead of winter. 

 Regardless of all representations as to the winter habits of the 

 animal and the difficulties and hardships of the trip, he insisted 

 on his point, and accordingly was taken by the guide to the foot 

 of the Asulkan Glacier. An old and hardened man of the open, 

 the guide camped in the snow by the fire, in a sleeping bag, while 

 the major retired to his little tent with a coal-oil stove which kept 

 the ease-loving warrior warm. In the words of the original 

 narrator: "It was cold. It froze whisky solid, but that didn't 

 feaze me. I'd seen it once or twice before. But one night after 

 we had made camp and turned in, me to the bag by the fire, and 

 the major to his tent and his stove, I was just hugging myself 

 and trying to believe I was getting warm when I heard footsteps 

 on the snow close beside me. I lifted the bag flap and peeked out. 

 Here was the major making preparations to camp out in the 

 snow with the rest of us. Says I, 'Major, wouldn't you be 

 better off in your tent?' and he answers, * I reckon I would, 



