202 



FOREST AND STREAM, 



|Apbil 9, 1385 



THROUGH TWO-OCEAN PASS. 



XII. — DP PACIFIC CREEK. 



n^HE next morning a pale and watery looking sun ap- 

 -*- peared in the sky, and after several hours spent in 

 endeavoring to dry out the various articles of camp furniture 

 soaked by yesterday's storm, we packed up aud started. The 

 day was rather an unlucky one for me, a series of accidents 

 depriving me of my horse aud my fishing rod. 



About two miles from camp Mr. Hague and I came to a 

 little gulch twelve or fifteen feet deep, and with very steep 

 banks, where the trails down into the stream bed were all 

 bad, being narrow, steep and slippery. The Pinto hesitated 

 about going down anywhere, and putting his nose between 

 his forelegs refused to budge until I had loosened the end of 

 my lariat, and hit him with it once or twice. Then he 

 started and half sliding, half walking, went down one bank, 

 trotted through the brook and up the trail on the other side. 

 This was steep, aud on the ground where it came out on the 

 level again, were two or three charred sticks of timber, such 

 as are strewn over the ground everywhere on these burned 

 hills. As the horse stepped over these I felt his leg strike 

 against something, aud at once he began to pitch. He had 

 made but a jump or two when I saw that he was fast to 

 something under his belly, which he was carrying with him, 

 and I supposed that possibly a stick had become entangled 

 in the cinch or the latigo strap, and that in a moment he 

 would buck himself free and stop. I tossed my rifle to one 

 side and sat him comfortably enough as he bucked himself 

 along the edge of the ravine, but suddenly he turned and 

 pitched down the almost vertical bluff, which was about 

 twelve feet high. This was rather more than I had bargained 

 for, and I saw that I must have a fall, for the bank was so 

 steep that I must either go over his head, or in striving to 

 keep my seat must lean so far back that the grip of my legs 

 would be wholly loosened. I chose the latter alternative, 

 and, as I expected, went sailing through the air, and came 

 down in a bunch of willows. From these I at once extri- 

 cated myself and ran to catch the horse. He had only gone 

 about twenty steps after getting rid of his burden, and stood 

 there by the water's edge with arched back and lowered 

 head, and as I grasped his bridle I made up my mind that he 

 was a dead horse, for he seemed to have a great stake driven 

 clear into his bowels. It was not quite so bad as that, how- 

 ever, though sufficiently alarming as it was. He had a slight 

 cut in the belly, and then this great snag had entered 

 between the hindlegs, well back, and ranging upward and 

 backward in the median line, had passed just under the skin 

 to within about three inches of the tail, where it protruded 

 for an inch or two. The stick was about three feet long, an 

 inch and a half in diameter at its smaller end, and three or 

 four at its larger. T got the saddle off the poor beast as 

 quickly as possible, and in a few moments the train came 

 up, and while I held the Pinto, Stuart and Saddlemeyer pre- 

 pared to extract the stick. I was at first afraid that they 

 would have to cast him, but a better way was devised. 

 Stuart got a long, stout pole and passed it under the horse's 

 belly, from one side to the other, and the projecting extremity 

 of the snag was then firmly lashed to it. Then the t wo men, 

 one standing on each side of the horse, pushed down on the 

 pole. The horded backed and kicked a little, and the stick 

 came aw?. v much more easily than would have been thought 

 possible. The wound bled but little, and copious applica- 

 tions of ice cold water at once checked any tendency to 

 hemorrhage. Pinto was turned loose and immediately 

 began to feed. The next day he was much less sore and 

 stiff than would have been expected. The wound suppurated 

 freely from the first, and he improved steadily. 



By this accident I was, as one of the men remarked, pro- 

 moted "to the quarterdeck of a mule," and proceeded to 

 catch and saddle up Little Nell, the tiniest of our animals. 

 So far as comfort in riding goes, a mule is quite as pleasant 

 an animal as a horse. They have ordinarily a smooth, easy, 

 springy gate which is very agreeable, but on the other hand, 

 they are usually nervous and easily frightened, and are of 

 such a sociable disposition, that they often protest loudly and 

 discordantly against being separated from their companions. 



A few miles above where all this took place, the valley of 

 Pacific Creek becomes wider, and at length spreads out into 

 a broad level plain, somewhat wet and marshy, and much 

 overgrown with willows. Although trying to keep to the 

 dryer portions of the flat we came to one bad slough, which 

 though it was only about four feet wide, caused us some 

 trouble. We were looking for a place where it could be 

 crossed, and Stuart, having tried it at one or two points, had 

 at length passed over without much difficulty. A pack mule 

 just behind him, however, sank so deep in the mud and 

 water that it was thought best not to let the others follow, 

 and Stuart, by shouting and waving his arms, was trying to 

 drive them back. The unlucky Hell was in the lead, and 

 was determined that she would cross, if not at that place, 

 why then somewhere else. So she turned aside, and a mo- 

 ment later stepped into the slough, where she sank up to 

 her shoulders, and at once fell over on her side. There was, 

 of course, dauger that she might get her head under water 

 and drown, and in a very few seconds some one had hold of 

 h er jaquimo stem and was holding her up, while others were 

 . trying to turn her over so that she could use her legs to some 

 advantage. The slough was narrow, however, and the pack 

 and mule were pretty firmly wedged in ; besides, she was so 

 far below us that it was hard to lift or pull on her, and noth- 

 ing that could be done wonld induce her to make the slight- 



est effort to help herself. At length we were obliged to cut 

 the lash rope, take off the pack and aparejo, and then, pass- 

 ing one rope about the mule's neck and another below her 

 quarters, lift her partly up on the bank, after which, by 

 means of energetic whipping with willow switches and rope 

 ends, she was pursuaded to make a little effort, and came 

 out easily enough. 



Just above this bottom, from the tops of some low hills 

 over which we passed, we had a superb view down the val- 

 ley of Pacific Creek, of the jagged, saw-tooth pinnacles of 

 the Tetons. They were white with snow^ and so, much 

 more beautiful than when bare, but not nearly so stern, 

 severe and impressive. In this valley was seen quite a lot of 

 elk sign, much of it very fresh. 



All of the country through which we had passed, since 

 leaving Jackson's Lake, is remarkable for the extensive evi- 

 dences of glacial action everywhere seen. The great ter- 

 races along Snake River have already been spoken of, 

 and the whole valley of Pacific Creek and those of its tribu- 

 taries are full of quartzite boulders highly glaciated. They 

 are all finely smoothed and rounded, and are often very highly 

 polished. The high bluffs on either side of the creek are 

 wholly formed of glacial gravels, and are remarkably similar 

 in appearance to the foothill gravels of California. It is thus 

 no wonder that the region has been extensively prospected 

 for fine gold. 



All appearance of a trail had long siace faded out, but we 

 still kept on up the creek picking our way along where the 

 traveling was easiest. At length, owing to the narrowing 

 of the valley aud the sharp bending of the stream to the 

 north, we left the bottom and took to the hills, climbing the 

 steep ridges and ascending during the afternoon perhaps a 

 thousand feet, and after proceeding for a few miles along 

 the ridges descended again over a very steep mountain side 

 to the stream bed. 



I always enjoy looking back and seeing a train come down 

 a steep hillside or along a narrow and perhaps difficult path. 

 Each animal moves so cautiously and deliberately, aud ex 

 ercises such care in planting each step that it is interesting 

 to watch their progress. 



It was about half-past 5 aud growing dark when we made 

 camp in the narrow valley of the stream. Some snow already 

 lay on the ground, and just as we reached the valley it began 

 to fall again very rapidly. Everything was as wet as could 

 be, and the prospects for a comfortable camp were not bright. 

 Nevertheless every one bustled around and helped at the 

 work, and while Stuart and Saddlemeyer were unpacking 

 the mules we collected and split wood, built the fire, brought 

 water, and did all that was possible to advance the work of 

 the camp. I have never been in the field with any set of 

 men that were more willing and cheerful, and generally 

 more disposed to make the best of adverse surroundings, 

 than my companions of last summer. Many hands make 

 light work, and it was not long before we were comfortably 

 housed, and a little later enjoying a good dinner beneath the 

 sheltering manta, which well kept off the snow. 



About 9 o'clock it cleared off, the stars came out, and 

 when I turned in a warm south wind was blowing, and only 

 a few fleecy clouds appeared in the sky. On the whole the 

 outlook seemed excellent for a bright, pleasant morrow. 

 But about daylight the next morning it began to snow again. 

 By the time we had turned out four or five inches lay on the 

 ground, and the great white flakes were still falling heavily. 

 There was no hope of making a march that day. It almost 

 looked as if winter had really set in, and as if the best thing 

 we could do would be to get down out of the mountains as 

 speedily as possible. The hoped-for extension of the trip to 

 the eastward across the Shoshonee Range could scarcely be 

 carried out. We had at present an abundance of provisions, 

 but if the snow should fall so heavily as to greatly delay 

 us, it might be that we would run short. 



A more wintry landscape than the one before us could 

 scarcely be imagined. Tire camp was situated at the lower 

 end of a little fiat not more than a quarter of a mile long by 

 fifty yards broad. On either side the mountains rose a thou- 

 sand feet almost vertically, and above and below the level 

 ground where the tents stood were deep canons. The moun- 

 tain sides were strewn with great rocks and down timber, 

 among which grew a few spruces, now all heavily weighted 

 down with snow. Even the dead trees bore their loads, for 

 there was no wiud, aud the snow was wet and clung to the 

 dead branches in great tufts. Everywhere the ground w T as 

 white, and only here and there could be seen the dark 

 foliage of some evergreen, or the vertical face of some 

 black mass of rock against which the snow did not fail. 

 This rock is a dark volcanic conglomerate or breccia made 

 up of what appears to be a hard clay with numerous worn 

 fragments of rhyolite scattered through it. It weathers iuto 

 many, curious and fantastic shapes, one of which, but a few 

 yards from camp, was very striking. This was an extremely 

 regular truncated cone of black rock which stood in the 

 midst of a little pool in the creek bed. It was about fifteen 

 feet high, and from its top grew a little pine tree. 



It was interesting to watch the herd oq the flat aud along 

 the lower hills. Until they became hungry they seemed 

 wretched euough, and stood about with drooping heads, 

 their draggled tails toward the storm, seeking, behind the 

 scattered evergreen trees, what protection they could from 

 the snow. As soon as they felt the need of food, however, 

 they scattered out over the fiat and began to paw away the 

 snow and browse upon the nutritious grass beneath it, and 



then, even though the snow did lie on their backs an inch 

 or two deep, and cling to their manes and tails, and tip their 

 ears with queer little white tufts, which gave to the mules a 

 particularly absurd appearance, they seemed contented 

 enough. 



Sitting all day about the fire with no more engrossing em- 

 ployment then occasionally to shovel the snow from the path 

 which led from the fire to our tent, I amused myself by 

 watching the birds, which seemed to seek shelter from the 

 storm in this narrow mountain valley. During the day four 

 species of hawks were seen, the sharpshin, marsh, sparrow 

 and pigeon hawks, but none of them paused near us, all ap- 

 parently being occupied in hunting. A kingfisher sounded 

 his harsh rattle along the stream, and alighting on a dead 

 limb near camp, erected his crest and bowed his salutation 

 to the first white men he had seen here for many years. The 

 little Oregon snowbirds were very numerous and remained 

 about camp all day, foraging busily over every bit of ground 

 which was kept bare by the shelter of a pine or an overhang- 

 ing rock. These and a few song sparrows were the most 

 sociable birds we had near us, for they hunted along by the 

 side of our very wood pile. A few red crorsbills, who were 

 preparing to migrate, rested for a few moments in the trees 

 above the tents, and their clear whistle fell cheerily to us 

 through the snowy air. I felt sorry for a poor little thrash 

 which seemed utterly miserable, he was so wet and cold. He 

 had taken up his position beneath a spreading pine close to 

 the camp, and was trying hard to pick up a dinner without 

 venturing forth over the snow. He would hop a little way. 

 pick once or twice, shiver and then shake his draggled 

 plumage, and then hop on a little further. Now and then 

 an Arctic bluebird was to be seen flying low over the snow 

 aud making a bright spot of color against the universal white- 

 ness. 



Several times little dippers {Ci/tdus mc.deonvs) were seen 

 along the stream— curious little drab-colored birds, progress- 

 ing with an odd bobbing motion along the water's edge, or 

 taking short flights from one almost submerged rock to the 

 next. The dipper is abundant in all these mountain streams 

 and is a bird but little known to those who travel along them. 

 Its habits lead the casual observer to conclude that it is 

 a sandpiper or snipe, and they thus assign it a position in the 

 ornithic class as far as possible from the one it really occu- 

 pies. Its aquatic habits are. unique among the group to 

 which it belongs, and the blunder so common is thus a very 

 natural one. It is really one of the Oscines or singing birds, 

 and its closest relationships among North American birds 

 are the TurdirM or thrush family. 



Its range is the mountains of Western America, from 

 Alaska to Mexico, and it only insists on clear streams among 

 the mountains. On such brooks and rivers as fulfil these 

 conditions the dipper is found in abundance— though it is 

 not a particularly sociable bird, and seems rather to prefer 

 to be alone— and its cheerful song and remarkable habits 

 render it a pleasing feature alike of the dark canons and of 

 the open sunlit glens. One feels a ludicrous sensation of 

 astonishment when first observing this species. It is not 

 very surprising to see a bird sitting upon the water or flying 

 above it, dive beneath its surface, but it is really startling to 

 see one calmly walk down a shelving rock or a smooth beach 

 into the water, and keep on without any apparent attempt at 

 swimming or diving, until it has disappeared. It wholly 

 upsets one's ideas of specific gravity, for we are accustomed 

 to think that birds and mammals will naturally float, and 

 that to dive or disappear beneath the water requires some 

 apparent effort. It is not so with the dipper, however. He 

 marches deliberately into the turbulent water, which engulfs 

 him and usually sweeps him several feet down the stream 

 before he bobs up serenely to the surface, and either takes 

 wing or sculls himself ashore. It must not be supposed 

 that he always enters the water in this way. Quite as often 

 he dives from the wing or from the surface of the stream, 

 but perhaps the method which he likes best is to plunge from 

 the top of a high rock or a log a foot or two above the cur. 

 rent, and then, after his battle with the torrent, return to 

 the same perch, from which at intervals he trills his simple 

 though very sweet song. His method of progression unde r 

 water is like that of most, if uot all, diving birds, by means 

 of the wings. His feet are no better adapted for swimming 

 than those of a robin, and although he gets along capitally 

 w'hen sculling about the edges of the mountain holes, they 

 would be of little service to him under water except some- 

 times as anchors. He flies under the water therefore with 

 nearly open wings, and gets about very actively. His plum- 

 age is dense and compact, and is moreover well protected by 

 a coat of oil, which he often renews from the large oil sack 

 with which he is provided. So the dipper never gets wet, 

 and we may conclude never takes cold, although he passes 

 the winter about the open places of mountain torrents as far 

 north as Alaska. His food, which he secures from the 

 bottom of the stream, consists mainly of aquatic insects, 

 and although his first cousin who inhabits Northern Europe 

 has been accused of feeding on the spawn of trout and 

 salmon, there is not a particle of evidence to sustain the 

 grave charge. 



The dipper dives iuto the water and gets to the bottom as 

 soon as possible, and by means of rapid wing beats and hold- 

 ing: on to the stones and gravel with his feet resists the con- 

 stant tendency to shoot up through the water to the air 

 above. He vigorously turns over the stODes aud sticks, and 

 secures the water insects and aquatic larvas which are found 



