Mountain Game. 113 



warranted by the result ; for the second plunge of the 

 horses brought them up to their bellies in the morass^ 

 where they stuck. It was freezing cold, with a bitter 

 wind blowing, and the bog holes were skimmed with ice ; 

 so that we passed a thoroughly wretched two hours while 

 freeing the horses and unloading the wagon. However, 

 we eventually got across ; my companion preserving an 

 absolutely unruffled temper throughout, perseveringly 

 whistling the " Arkansas Traveller." At one period, 

 when we were up to our waists in the icy mud, it began 

 to sleet and hail, and I muttered that I would " rather it 

 did n't storm " ; whereat he stopped whistling for a moment 

 to make the laconic rejoinder, " We 're not having our 

 rathers this trip." 



At nightfall we camped among the willow bushes by a 

 little brook. For firewood we had only dead willow sticks ; 

 they made a hot blaze which soon died out ; and as the 

 cold grew intense, we rolled up in our blankets as soon as 

 we had eaten our supper. The climate of the Big Hole 

 Basin is alpine ; that night, though it was the 2Oth of 

 August, the thermometer sank to 10 F. 



Early next morning we struck camp, shivering with 

 cold as we threw the stiff, frozen harness on the horses. 

 We soon got among the foot-hills, where the forest was 

 open and broken by large glades, forming what is called a 

 park country. The higher we went the smaller grew the 

 glades and the denser the woodland ; and it began to be 

 very difficult to get the wagon forward. In many places 

 one man had to go ahead to pick out the way, and if 

 necessary do a little chopping and lopping with the axe, 



