276 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



peaks and deep canons, with mountain forest and 

 lake and river in between, that will always remain a 

 more or less happy hunting and fishing ground. Near 

 it is the National Park, whence overflow the wild 

 game from a preserve whose sanctity is absolutely 

 and strictly maintained. From its streams and lakes, 

 6,000 feet above the sea, amid the wild fastnesses of 

 this great rough country, the speckled mountain -trout 

 will never, as I imagine, be fished out ; and here it 

 was, in a splendid bracing climate, that I found 

 myself towards the end of August in that year. 



I had come by train from Rawlins to Opal, on 

 the Oregon short line, and had driven thence 

 for 150 miles in a spring-waggon up Green River 

 Valley to Wells' hunting-camp a few miles below 

 Green River Lake. This journey took three days. 

 The first night we stopped at Reel's ranch on 

 Lebarge Creek ; the second night at Ball's ranch on 

 Cottonwood Creek ; and late the third night we 

 reached our destination, a collection of comfortable 

 log- huts on the river, built by an enterprising western 

 hunter named Wells, who had undertaken, by previous 

 arrangement, to supply me with the necessary men, 

 horses, and camp outfit, for a five weeks' hunting-trip. 



There was some stir going on in Wells' camp on 

 our arrival. A ' road-agent ' was in the neighbour- 

 hood, and had on that very day put a Winchester 

 bullet through the wrist of one of Wells' boys who 

 had volunteered to assist the Sheriff in an attempt at 

 his capture. We had previously heard of this ' road- 

 agent ' on the second day out from Opal, at a ranch 

 kept by one Budd, where we had made our mid-day 

 halt. Budd's ranch was also the local post-office, and on 

 our .arrival we had found the postmaster in a state of 



