RECREA TIOJST. 



289 



It seemed next to impossible to get 

 our horses to the range where the cari- 

 bou could be found, and beside my 

 companion had grown sick and tired of 

 the country. We finally decided to give 

 it up and go south, which we did, follow- 

 ing our old trail down the river for three 

 days. We then turned east in search of 

 the lake country which I had seen from 

 the mountain peaks. From a high ridge 

 we located the lakes — at least two or 

 three of them—but it took an entire 

 day's wandering through the thick 

 woods before we found one of them. It 

 was a small one, a few hundred yards 

 wide and twice as long. Grass grew 

 about its shores, which supplied our 

 half-starved horses. 



The beavers seemed to have things 

 their own way here. They had built dams 

 and many pole houses. I arose between 2 

 and 3 o'clock in the morning, and in the 

 moonlight could see several swimming 

 about and working on their houses. The 

 noise made by them in their gnawing 

 and other work, could be heard dis- 

 tinctly. 



The next day we moved camp to the 

 shore of a lake more than a mile in 

 diameter. It had an island in its centre, 

 covered with evergreens. I christened 

 it " Island lake." There were not so 

 many beavers in this lake, although 

 there were a number of pole houses, 

 and a dam several hundred feet in 

 length, around the marshy outlet. The 

 sandy beach was patted down by the 

 feet of lynxes, wolves, wolverines and 

 various other animals. A rather fresh 

 carcass of a deei was found in the 

 brush which bordered one of the little 

 bayous. The animal had evidently been 

 devoured and perhaps killed by wolve- 

 rines. There were a few fresh bear and 

 caribou tracks about the shore. Fish 

 showed themselves by jumping out of 

 the water. It seemed an ideal place for 

 a hunter and naturalist collector. 



During the first night of our stay at 

 this island lake it snowed about five 

 inches. What an opportunity for hunt- 

 ing, and for finding out what there was 

 in the country ! But, alas, for my 

 companion — a local taxidermist, from 

 Denver — when the snow began to fall, 

 " the winter of his discontent " set in, 

 and by the time the snow had ceased to 

 fall he had completely soured on the 

 country and was as fussy as a wounded 



bear. He had no use for Island lake, 

 or any other lake, and proposed to get 

 out of the country immediately, lest he 

 should be snowed in for the winter. He 

 brought his horses in and began putting 

 on the packs. I reluctantly did the 

 same, vowing, however, that I would at 

 some future time return to Island lake 

 with a companion possessed of at least 

 an atom of the staying quality. 



After a week's traveling we were 

 again at Thorp's ranch. Thorp had 

 lived in the country 30 years. His ad- 

 vice contributed much to the success of 

 my five months collecting trips in the 

 country. His hospitality had become 

 proverbial. His house was open for my 

 personal comfort and his barn for the 

 storage of my baggage and specimens. 



After a few days rest and a month's 

 successful Rocky mountain goat hunt- 

 ing, I prepared for a second trip up Ket- 

 tle river. This time Maurice Farrell 

 and George McLaughlin, the men who 

 had built and occupied the Trappers' 

 cabin, the winter before, were my 

 companions. Not finding any caribou 

 in the neighborhood of the old cabin, 

 we proceeded, with our pack train, 

 northeast across a divide, leaving the 

 Island lake country which we could 

 plainly see to our left. After a three 

 days journey we made camp on the mid- 

 dle fork of Kettle river. Our plans 

 were to go up this fork, but after one 

 day's journey it was found to be even 

 more utterly impassable than the west 

 fork. There seemed no possible way 

 to get along with pack horses, except 

 to follow in the bed of the river. In 

 places the water was deep and the river 

 bed full of boulders. After one half 

 day's effort we gave it up. A two and 

 a half days' journey down the river 

 brought us to an open meadow, on 

 the edge of which a new log cabin 

 stood near the bank of the river. 



Len Armstrong, an old friend of 

 Maurice and George, had just located 

 there. He had visited Trappers' Cabin 

 during the summer and had thought of 

 locating at that point, but finally de- 

 cided that his present camp afforded 

 better range for his herd of snow storm 

 horses. 



On our way up, Maurice saw Len at 

 Chinatown. He reported fresh caribou 

 tracks near his ranch, and said that the 

 Indians had seen them a few miles north- 



