CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 33 



Dezadeash River. It has been a beautifully bright, 

 clear day, but the wind from the west is cold and 

 penetrating, and both sweaters and gloves are wel- 

 come additions to our outfit. The valley is exceed- 

 ingly level, with a floor of sand and small pebbles; 

 it is evidently the bottom of an immense, ancient, 

 glacial lake, as the mountains on each side about 

 four hundred feet up show distinct beaches extending 

 for miles as the ancient water level. At noon the 

 black flies were out in force, but after we got under 

 way again we had but little annoyance from them. 

 In the afternoon our course again led us into the 

 hills where the footing was soft, and only by hard 

 work did we keep from being bogged up in the mud. 

 At one point, in order to avoid a deep gulch 

 washed out by the rains, we made a slight detour 

 and ran into a nasty marshy condition. The light 

 buckboard pulled through with but little difficulty, 

 but the heavily loaded transport wagon went into 

 the muck and slime on one side up to the hubs and 

 simply died. Wright addressed the horses in every 

 known language, and in spite of his urging and his 

 best line of talk, with the aid of four of us putting 

 our shoulders to the wheels, the wagon did not 

 budge. We then cut trees into short lengths and 

 drove them into the mud under the wheels in order 

 to make an artificial bottom to the seemingly bot- 

 tomless slime, but without avail. Finally we ob- 

 tained some trees about twenty feet long and seven 



