HUNTING FOR A PLACE TO HUNT. 



95 



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FORDING THE SALMON RIVER. 



The third day we passed through the 

 oiu mining town of Florence, out of which 

 it is claimed over 50 millions of dollars 

 have been taken, and nightfall found us at 

 the State bridge on the Salmon river, ready 

 to take a well earned rest. The fourth 

 day we used up in climbing the 14-mile 

 hill, from the Salmon river to the hot 

 springs, where we stayed over night to get 

 a bath in water that came out of the 

 earth at over 100 degrees. The fifth day 

 found us at Warrens, which is a thriving 

 mining town, where many pack outfits 

 start from. All around it the ground has 

 been worked with placer mines, until the 

 whole valley looks like the seashore, with 

 the sand piled up in drifts. The Chinese 

 still work the old diggings, making small 

 wages. 



At that time our troubles began to 

 thicken. As we had thought, our horses 

 were used up, and we were apparently as 

 far from our hunting ground as when we 

 started. After a conference we demanded 

 of Bates a new outfit ; also to know 

 whether he knew where he was going. He 

 admitted that he did not know the country 

 very well, and finally consented to hire 

 an extra guide, and get some new horses ; 

 so on the sixth day we started with new 

 hopes, fording the South fork of the Sal- 

 mon river about noon. The river was 

 waist deep, with a swift current, and many 

 round boulders on the bottom, so we had 

 to be cautious as we rode across, but 

 made it without mishap, and camped for 

 the night about 5 miles beyond, on Elk 

 creek. The seventh day we had a rather 

 rough trail, lost one horse in the woods 

 by not picketing him, and another, which 

 was completely fagged out, we had to leave 

 behind. We had seen no game since we 

 started, and we began to think we were 



up against it. That afternoon we crossed 

 a high ridge, from which we could see 

 the Bitter Root range, 60 miles away, and 

 camped on Smith's creek, reaching there 

 about 8.30 P. M. 



The 8th day we were positively as- 

 sured that we would be in the basin in 2 

 days, but with past experiences, we took 

 the statement with salt. However, we 

 started early, leaving the pack to follow, 

 and reached Mosquito Springs, where we 

 found the coldest water I have ever had 

 the pleasure of drinking. About dusk, 

 Bates came hurrying along, leading a pack 

 horse, and gave us the pleasant informa- 

 tion that most of the pack horses were 

 lost, so they would not reach us that 

 night. You can imagine how we enjoyed 

 that. Eight days out, no sign of game, 

 with worse prospects, and our outfit lost ! 

 That was indeed a pleasant outlook; but 

 we dined on what we had and spread our 

 blankets for a sleep. 



The next day, of course, we had to wait 

 for the packs to reach us. We fell in 

 with a scout and prospector, known as the 

 Yellowstone Kid. whose outfit consisted of 

 2 jacks and a dog. He had killed a bear, 

 so we had our first fresh meat. While 

 waiting, we hired him to take us out, and 

 came back in the evening with one black- 

 tail deer, which was the only animal shot 

 on the trip. About sundown our outfit ar- 

 rived, minus one more horse and part of 

 the pack, including my boots, which, be- 

 ing wet, had been thrown over the pack 

 to dry. 



We engaged the Kid for a week, and on 

 the 10th day we reached Ramie Meadows, 

 where we expected to find game, but, like 



COL. R. E. MOSS, AND THE BEAR HE DIDN T GET. 



