OF SHOOTING AND FISHING = 148 
lake, but many feet above it and through very 
dense forest. In some places it was all the horses, 
with big packs, could do to push through, and our 
progress was very slow. Several times I wished 
for a canoe, as the lake was just beside us, and it 
would have saved us so much trouble, tearing and 
‘seraping. 
At last we reached the base of wild, rugged Rock- 
well, but the smoke had come, and a photograph 
was impossible. These rocky peaks rising out of 
the forest were splendid. Passing Rockwell we 
entered the Big Horn Basin and continuing our 
way west, soon saw a rocky pinnacle about two 
thousand feet high. At the foot of this, and on its 
north side, there was a dark-looking lake which 
we reached after a few hundred feet of precipitous 
climbing and we unpacked for lunch on its shore. 
As the sun was on the south side of this pinnacle, 
and as the water was bounded by the cliffs on one 
side and was surrounded on the others by high 
black timber, it certainly looked cold and gloomy. 
Three ruddy ducks fluttered across as we ap- 
proached—scratching the water with their tails— 
and these, with a couple of noisy but sociable 
Clark’s crows, which watched the lunch arrange- 
ments with deep interest, were the only birds about. 
Squirrels and chipmunks, however, were very nu- 
merous and tame. 
After a halt of an hour or so we started for the 
summit. The trail, which led through timber and 
brush, was so steep that our time was slow. It took 
us several hours to reach the top of the Two Medi- 
