230 CAMP FIRE REMINISCENCES 
a lonely life. Heshowed us his wild geese, his bear, — 
and his coyote. The house was picturesquely built, 
and from its surroundings it was evident that its 
occupant was a born naturalist, and lover of the 
wilds. Our next stop was Ripley’s, the first stage 
station on the National Park route, coming in via 
Marysville. It was free from any particular archi- 
tectural beauty, being a log house of the most primi- 
tive possible type. 
A few miles further on we turned off the road, 
and crossing meadows for a mile or so, forded the 
Snake and drove up a hill to my friend’s house, 
situated upon the right bank of the river, which 
was very high at this point. The view was beau- 
tiful. At our feet lay the Snake River, winding 
through miles of rich meadow interspersed with — 
clumps of black timber, a forest of which formed 
the background, while in the far distance the icy 
peaks of the mighty Tetons were reflecting the 
oblique rays of the setting sun with dazzling bright- 
ness. Behind the house rose hills, the sides of 
which were heavily grown with conifers. Their 
bases, as they rested upon the meadows, were 
fringed with a deciduous shrubbery, upon which 
Nature was painting her autumnal decorations with 
a wonderful prodigality. 
The following morning we drove up the river 
nearly to Ripley’s before beginning to fish. My 
friend selected a deep pool under the left bank 
into which a stream ran, and I waded out in shal- 
low water with the intention of crossing the river. 
Casting a few times towards the opposite bank to 
