268 ARRANGING MATERIAL FOR NEW MUSEUM 



spring, I went to Moose Jaw and fitted out my small party by 

 taking Mr. Spreadborough with me to Moose Jaw, and there we 

 also got a young farmer, and we three had a covered wagon, like 

 a regular old prairie schooner, to carry our outfit, with a gig for 

 myself. With this outfit, we started on the 18th of May, 1895, 

 for Wood Mountain. At this time, nearly all the lakes and streams 

 on the prairie had ceased to flow, and when we reached Old Wives' 

 Lake, we had no difficulty in crossing an isthmus between two 

 lakes and so proceeded on to Wood Mountain. We found the 

 country everywhere dried up and the grass crisp and brittle. 

 About the 24th of May, we had a heavy shower and I tried the 

 depth to which the moisture penetrated the earth and found that 

 it entered the soil about two inches. The country near Wood 

 Mountain was almost without water and we had difficulty in 

 supplying ourselves. When I reached there, after consulting 

 with the Mounted Police, I decided to go further south to the 

 boundary and see the country in its entirety in that meridian. 

 I then returned to Wood Mountain and started west on a line 

 that would enable us to strike the Cypress Hills, two hundred 

 miles away. In our progress, we met some difficulties and many 

 adventures, but reached Frenchman's River, which flows south 

 east from the Cypress Hills and empties into the Missouri. We 

 rested on its banks for a few days and had the good fortune to 

 discover the Sage Grouse, quite a large bird, which we had never 

 seen before and, I may say, have never seen since. Keeping west, 

 we eventually reached the Cypress Hills and joined the Mounted 

 Police there and were directed by them how to proceed to the 

 south, which was our next objective. 



The greater part of the country south was very barren but, 

 when we reached Milk River, we came to a very fine country and, 

 as we found that Milk River was almost on the boundary, we 

 turned west and, from there, went to the Milk River Ridge, which 

 lies about thirty miles south of Lethbridge. I may mention that, 

 in all my explorations so far, we found the country extremely 

 dry, but I felt that we had discovered what was actually taking 

 place — that the drouth was broken, for the next shower, which 

 we had in June, had wet the ground down four inches, and, in 



