242 



AMERICAN FORESTRY 



covered with a magnificent growth of yellow pine, to the 

 Gordon Ranch a little kingdom of fields and forest 

 hidden away at the head of the Swan River. Those 

 who have been in the Montana Hills need no introduc- 



HIGH COUNTRY OF THE FLATHEAD FOREST 



Persuading ourselves that there would be time to spare, we climbed to this point where the grandeur 



of the view tempted us to loiter well into the afternoon. 



w, '<'<"< - BIG PRAIRIE. 



At last South Fork was crossed and the trail emerged on Big Prairie, a broad plain covered with grass 



and scattering groves of pines. 



L<m " r BIG SALMON LAKE AND LOCOMOTIVE ROCK 



A strangely sculptured cliff, known as Locomotive Rock, juts high above the ridge on the south keeping 



lonely vigil over the lake. 



tion to that clear, brisk weather so apt to follow a rain 

 in the latter part of August. There is no blending of 

 mellow tints in an atmosphere devoid of haze. Each 

 detail of the landscape holds its definition in the vivid 

 mosaic of the whole, and as the 

 day advances, the blue of the sky 

 seems to become bluer above an 

 earth of scintillating color. 



Haying was in full swing at 

 the Gordon Ranch, and as sup- 

 per would be deferred until dark, 

 we had ample time for a visit 

 to Holland Lake. We reached 

 the west shore at sunset, where 

 from the shadowy woods, we 

 looked across the mirror-like 

 surface of the water to the rug- 

 ged peaks beyond on which the 

 last rays of sunlight were fast 

 dying out. Their rough, scarred 

 sides, looking very near in the 

 clear light, were reflected per- 

 fectly by the unruffled water. A 

 waterfall could be seen in a 

 ravine between the peaks. A 

 light breeze brought us the faint- 

 est murmur from this fall, almost 

 imperceptibly touched the surface 

 of the lake, blurring for an in- 

 stant the reflected picture, and 

 then died out. The fading light at 

 last warned us to return to the 

 ranch, and reluctantly we mount- 

 ed and rode quietly back through 

 the twilight woods. As we reach- 

 ed the open fields the western 

 sky was rapidly flushing to rose 

 and orange, against which the 

 sharp blue silhouettes of the Mis- 

 sions rose, their outlines as sharp 

 as if trimmed by shears from 

 sheet metal. 



Ours was untroubled sleep that 

 night, rolled in the comfortable 

 beds of the ranch bunk house. 

 Reluctantly, we answered the call 

 to a four o'clock breakfast, al- 

 though we did full justice to a 

 repast prepared for the hearty 

 appetites of the hay hands. Free- 

 hearted hospitality was here, aug- 

 mented by an abundance of grub, 

 and good cooking. 



Morning shadows still lingered 

 on Holland Lake as we followed 

 our trail around the north shore, 

 advancing towards the moun- 

 tains, which, seen across the 

 lake, had so impressed us the 



