IN THE PARK 105 



caught a salmon there, about 150, B. C. People 

 have been fishing there ever since on the strength 

 of that tradition. I finally asked my boatman 

 if there were really any fish in the lake. "Sure, 

 yer honor, lashins of thim." "Well, what kind?" 

 "Oh, all kinds." "Any trout?" "Sure, fine big 

 trouts." "Croppy?" "Sure, yer honor." *'Bass?" 

 "Sure, basses that long." "Any thermometers?" 

 "Sure, yer honor, but" (confidentially so as not 

 to excite my hopes) ''this is not the saison fer 

 thim; if you wor here in March now you'd see 

 thim lapin all over the lake." I gave it up then. 

 I concluded to wait till March. 



Shortly before we reached the Fountain Hotel, 

 we crossed Nez Perces Creek which recalls one of 

 the most romantic and pathetic of our Indian 

 wars — that with Chief Joseph. 



In 1877, General Sherman, with a small party, 

 passed through the Park, leaving it but a day or 

 two before the Nez Perces entered it. The Nez 

 Perces are acknowledged to be the finest tribe of 

 red men on the continent. Early converted to 

 Christianity, they were always at peace with us. 



