Aphil 14, 1887.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



247 



blood stain showed where the hunt had ended. A lynx 

 sinkB but little in the snow, its very large feet prevent its 

 light body from sinking much more than a rabbit. 



Soon after 3 A. M. on the 17th, we started for the Lowe r 

 Basin. It was quite dark and snowing a little when we 

 set out. We passed through the basin I had visited the 

 day before, coming out through the fog and steam on the 

 other side. We could see a little better, as it was getting 

 ffaylight. In due time we came to the Dude's Head, the 

 top of which was below the level of the snow, only a lit- 

 tle mound of white showing where it was. With some 

 difficulty I could run my snowshoe pole to the ground, 

 and I found that through this stretch of timber the snow 

 was from six to seven feet deep. We sank from four to 

 six inches deep in the snow while on the shoes, without 

 them we would go down to our knees. 



When we came out in sight of the Gibbon Meadow, we 

 were favored with a lifting of the clouds, giving us a view 

 of the meadow and surrounding country. We could look 

 down the Gibbon Canon a short distance and see great 

 clouds of steam rising from the Monument Geysers, the 

 Artist Paint Pots and geysers on the head of Geyser Creek, 

 and on our right Sylvan Spring. A dark snow cloud hid 

 Mt. Holmes and all the*peaks in the Madison Range. We 

 ran down to the meadow in a few seconds, a delightful 

 slide after the steady tramping in the snow through the 

 timber. Shortly after descending the hill, a severe snow 

 storm struck us, followed by a strong wind, which drove 

 the snow against us in horizontal lines; but as it came 

 from our right it was not so difficult to travel in, though 

 had it been chiving in our faces it would have been hard 

 work malting headway. 



The Gibbon River was open and free from ice; all the 

 open creeks that flow into it were steaming. Drifted 

 snow curled over its banks and hid them, the river com- 

 ing through a white field. Long bright green grasses and 

 water plants grow on the bottom, waving with the cur- 

 rent. 



Through this part of the Park I expected to see moose, 

 for there are a few hi here and to the north nearer Mt? 

 Holmes. I expected to find them feeding on the grasses 

 in the water, or at least to discover some signs of them; 

 but we saw nothing that I was sure of, for the fast falling 

 snow hid whatever tracks there might have been. I 

 noticed several flocks of ducks on the river, most of them 

 woodducks, with a few mallards and a black duck with 

 white cheeks and white tipped wings. 



We soon entered the canon which I had been dreading, 

 for I was fearful of snowslides and the dangerous places 

 I had been told of. I was tempted to go around to avoid 

 the bad part; but we concluded that we could slip through 

 and by taking due note of the dangerous places shoot 

 across them. We soon came to the Hot Springs on the 

 left of the old road. Here a log had been thrown across the 

 stream, as there was no bridge on the new road. We 

 were obliged to cross on this log, the one that had caused 

 Pete Nelson, the mail carrier, so much trouble. Taking 

 both snowshoe poles, I balanced myself with one, break- 

 ing the snow and ice off with the other. The log sagged 

 so that the water ran almost over it, making it slippery; 

 and it required caution to cross without a wetting. Al- 

 though encumbered with packs and long snowshoes, we 

 managed to pass over in safety. In this canon I noticed 

 the effects of the storm of Jan. 19; many trees had been 

 blown down, some were broken off 20ft. up and had 

 brought down in their fall telephone wires and poles. 

 The wide wagon road was piled up with snow fully 12ft. 

 deep, drifted in long ridges, the tops of which we were 

 obliged to follow as if traveling on the comb of a house. 

 At the Beryl Spring we 'paused a few minutes to see the 

 effect of the cold. All the trees were covered with ice, 

 in interesting and strange shapes. We then crossed two 

 bridges over gulches, the snow being piled above the 

 railing. Through here there was some 7ft. of snow, on the 

 meadow above from 4 to 7ft. 



Constantly looking for danger we recrossed the river 

 on abridge, and soon after I noticed the trail of two small 

 snowslides, and walking back saw the trail of another 

 above the bridge. That was the only dangerous ground 

 I saw. To be sure, the sides of the canons are very steep 

 and the snow deep, but fortunately the canon is well- 

 timbered and holds the snow in place. I really think 

 there is no danger here at all. Climbing a long hill we 

 soon came to the Gibbon Falls, to see which we must 

 descend into the canon again; this was so difficult in the 

 deep snow, to say nothing of the trouble we would have 

 in getting back, that we concluded to go on. 



The storm was over and the sun out, with now and then 

 passing clouds. When we came to the Canon Creek hill, 

 we had a view of half a mile, descending some 400ft. 

 While resting here and lunching, I looked for fish, as 

 this is the first stream in which one can find trout after 

 leaving the Mammoth Hot Springs. I saw but a single 

 fish and that but a small one. Having rested an hour we 

 pushed on our way, and before sunset came to the Teton 

 Hill, from which, on a clear day, one can see the top of 

 the Grand Teton. We could discern steam rising from 

 the Great Fountain, Fountain, and Excelsior Geysers. 

 The whole of the Lower Basin was before us; flowing to 

 our right was the Fire Hole River ; further north the 

 Canon of the Madison/ 1,700ft. deep. The whole river 



was open, with ducks and brant on the surface, and now 

 and then a gull. 



Running down the hill we crossed an exposed space 

 where the snow was only 4ft. deep. Just before entering 

 the Lower Basin we crossed immense drifts, and making 

 our way over Nez Perce Creek, came to the hotel, reach- 

 ing there a little after 6 P. M. Elwood Hofer. 



NORWAY NOTES. 



A SCRAMBLE of about an hour over the turf and up 

 the rooks, slippery with moisture, brought us to the 

 Torghaetten Tunnel. There is a theory that the ceaseless 

 beating of the sea ages ago had worn a passage through 

 the rocky island, and that as the fragments of rock loos- 

 ened and fell from above they piled and filled up below. 

 This may or may not be so, but there is the hole in the 

 rock 400ft. above the sea. I trembled at the thought of 

 what a condition of soreness those 400ft. must be in 

 after so many generations of climbing. 



The mate, who is acting as our guide, cautions us 

 against the overhanging mass of granite, as huge pieces 

 are continually rattling down. The hole is taciturn to a 

 degree, and without any warning cry of ''stand from 

 under," plies his strong bar of time. He is wise in saving 

 his breath; he will want it all before he climbs that re- 

 maining 200ft. before he escapes into the air above. 



A moment for cooling our lungs and then we look. 

 For 1,000ft. or more in a downward course stretched the 

 opening, 100ft. or so in breadth and height, ragged, torn, 

 dripping with the sweat of its tremendous struggle, and 

 the opening at the other end bathed in the vapor of a 

 melting glacier. On our walk down we stopped often 

 and stooped always over the soft tables of moss which, 

 sheltered by the rocks, nurtured little pink and blue flow- 

 ers. How gentle and soft was their fragrance after a 

 breath blown from the sea! 



"When do we reach Tromso?" was the first question the 

 next morning, for there we were to see some real, live, 

 genuine Laplanders in all their splendor (of dirt and 

 poverty). About thirty of us were rowed ashore that 

 afternoon and found as many shaggy little ponies. Three 

 of us, more impatient than the others, were quickly 

 mounted, and then a wild dash for three miles. The path 

 led up a narrow valley between the gradually rising hills, 

 crossing and recrossing a brook swollen into a muddy 

 rush by the melting snow, and checked and turned in its 

 course every few feet by the upheaved rocks. One of the 

 ponies, being weighted down with the fat of forty years, 

 gradually dropped behind, and we two alone splashed 

 along, leaving behind the soft warmth of the sun near 

 the ocean, and entering the chilling banks of mist drifting 

 down from the snow banks above. The path became 

 more rocky as we ascended, and itseemed as if each stone 

 struck by the pony's feet relieved itself of a good share of 

 its hardness, which darted up through the pony's leg, 

 shoulder and my body, and ended with a thump in my 

 head. When four separate and distinct shocks, springing 

 from as many legs at one and the same time would meet 

 at the base of my neck, I began to wish that the Laps 

 were not so retiring in then- habits. A sudden turn m 

 our course and we reined up in the midst of scores of 

 snarling, grinning dogs, who were so assiduous in their 

 attentions that Ave unanimously decided to take our first 

 view of the camp from our present lofty positions. 



What a motly sight it was indeed! Half a dozen mud 

 and skin huts scattered along the brook, with damp and 

 smoke dripping and floating from every pore; the height 

 of the hills behind squeezing out countless little streams 

 of water from their vaporous sides; the groups of Lap- 

 landers, looae-jointed and seemingly incapable of bodily 

 exertion, covered with reindeer hides, donned for as long 

 as they would remain on the wearer, lying about; so 

 much water about, and yet so much filth; and the fore- 

 ground, the background and the remaining chinks «f the 

 scene filled and animated with the muddy legs, bedrag- 

 gled tails and constant snarl of the omnipresent and 

 always fighting dog, whose bristling back and eager 

 nostril assured us that the saddle was the place of safety. 

 The others of the party coming up, we were surrounded 

 by the Laps, eager to exchange their leggins, shoes, 

 tobacco-pouches of reindeer hide, knives sheathed in 

 rudely carved walrus bone, spoons of horn and such other 

 knick-knacks as theyfcould make without any great ex- 

 penditure of energy, for the coin of the realm— isobacco. 

 Our attention was next attracted by their herd of about 

 400 reindeer which were "rounded up" in a brush corral, 

 and as they were moderately tame, we had an opportunity 

 of a good look at them. I was much disappointed in 

 their size and appearance. Judging from the pictures 

 one sees of reindeer pulling sledges over the snow, they 

 appear to be nearly as large as a horse, whereas in life I 

 saw none larger than our mule deer, and with their shed- 

 ding coats and straggling antlers drooping on their shoul- 

 ders they looked the picture of meekness. 



One thing was noticeable all through the North, in 

 both men and animals; there was no life, no animation. 

 The children did not laugh over then play in the streets 

 or fields; even a joyous expression was a rarity. The 

 long, dark, cold winter leaves a chill in the heart, so deep 

 that it cannot be reached by the warmth of the summer's 

 sun. One was not awakened in the morning by the lusty 

 crow of a cock, nor did the hens leave their nests, nor 

 gather then chicks about them with the proud cluck of 

 maternity. All the horses are left in the full vigor of 

 nature, yet they stand quiet and passionless, unhitche d 

 in the streets of Norway. The reindeer, too, tame and 

 almost lifeless, allowed us to walk within a few yards of 

 them. One of our party producing a photographic ap- 

 paratus, we grouped ourselves on a mound, a few deer 

 being held in front of us with ropes, and to heighten the 

 effect some of us covered ourselves with reindeer leggins, 

 gloves, s kins and in one or two instances a huge pair of 

 antlers were tied on the shoulders — enough to puzzle the 

 eye of any camera. The result was a strange inter- 

 mingling of men with four feet and horns and reindeer 

 with umbrellas and derby hats. Friends in America 

 must have indeed thought that Norway was a strange 

 land, upon receiving such pictures of life there. Return- 

 ing to the steamer we lingered for a moment, but to the 

 windward of a huge whale that had been killed ten days 

 before by fishermen who were now cutting up and trying 

 out the blubber. Fearful of our quickly waning appe- 

 tites, we left the huge roll of fat and were Boon on board. 

 One day. we steamed through the Lofoden Islands. The 



morning was rainy and we were afraid that we might 

 miss much of the beauty of the islands, but late in the 

 afternoon, the mist rolling up, the mountains, every line 

 came out clear and distinct. The colorings were almost 

 startling in their contrasts. The sea, a cold blue where 

 we were Bailing, shaded out to a light green away back in 

 the distance where the horizon bathed its arc, the surface 

 dotted with fishing boats, thin curved lines, trireme-like, 

 and brick red square sails drifting with the wind; the 

 brilliant green of the land, low-lying at the shore, fading 

 to a brown as it quickly rose into mountains, with thin 

 cold gray hollows and the shaded blue of the rivers of 

 eternal ice, and above all the pinnacles, spurs and knobs 

 of the top, softened with the banks of snow and engold- 

 ened in the rays of the sun. Sunday morning we spent 

 a few hours at Hammerfest, which is remarkable for one 

 thing at least, that it is the most northern town in the 

 world. It is made up of a hundred or two frame build- 

 ings, stuck up where room was found for them, and no 

 two facing in the same direction. The sights of the town 

 were few, the smells enormous. At almost every turn 

 we saw strings of codfish hanging in the sun and air to 

 dry. and so, no matter what direction the wind came 

 from, it was sure to be laden, and heavily, with the sea's 

 dead. A peep inside the four cold white walls of the 

 church disclosed a sleepy congregation of fisher-folk and 

 Laps and one or two light-haired Finns from the interior. 



On our way back to the steamer we were run into by a 

 Lap, who, doubtless thinking of the efficacy of oil on 

 troubled waters, had reversed the matter, pouring into 

 his oilyjself an unlimited amount of (fire) water, and his 

 tottering legs heeded not the right of way as he came 

 jibing toward us, crying some tribal song in his frenzy. 



A few hours steaming brought us to" Gull Rock near 

 the North Cape, which is the home and breeding place of 

 millions of gulls, attracted there by the fishing banks. A 

 rocket or two fired against the rock and the gulls dropped 

 from their resting place in infinite numbers, and floated 

 in the wind like clouds of snowflakes. 



We came to anchor late in the afternoon, and the mate 

 told us if any were fond of deep-sea fishing, here was the 

 place, and adding that skill was not necessary for a good 

 catch, he enlisted the services of almost all of us. The 

 cod lines were brought on deck, the hooks being attached 

 to pieces of strong copper wire about 2ft. in length, bent 

 in the shape of a half-circle and weighted with a huge 

 piece of lead. The mate threw this contrivance over- 

 board, and, paying out the line to within a few feet of the 

 bottom, began to saw it up and down over the rail like 

 one possessed. He told us to follow his example, and in 

 a few moments we were all at it, pulling and letting go, 

 all anxious for the first nibble. 



While we were puzzling our brains with the question of 

 how this was possible while our hooks were unbaited, 

 we were startled with the shrieks of one of the ladies, 

 who finally quited down sufficiently to tell us that there 

 was something heavy at the other end of her line, and 

 that it "waggled awfully!" Bent double over the rail, 

 we watched that line as yard after yard of its dripping 

 length was pulled in, and then something white was seen 

 away down in the calm depth, and finally a handsome 

 cod was hauled over on the deck, hooked through the tail, 

 an object both of pity and admiration. Then we discovered 

 the modus ojierandi. The hook did the biting, not the 

 fish. The mate, with a twinkle, declared this necessary, 

 as the fish were so thick below that there was not room 

 for them to open their mouths. After sawing for a few 

 moments, raising nothing but blisters on my fingers, I was 

 content to sit watching the others as they pulled in fish 

 after fish, each one coming aboard in a different way, as 

 no two were hooked in the same place. A few moments 

 before 12 that night found us grouped around the fore- 

 mast. The engine had ceased its hot breathing, and the 

 ship pulled lazily at its linked fastening beneath the pre- 

 cipitous and ragged height of the North Cape, outlined 

 clearly against the blue sky. The sun, hid beneath a 

 cloud, poured down its molten coloring upon the Artie 

 Sea. Lower and lower it sank, and just before 8 bells 

 rang out, in plain sight the midnight sun blazed and 

 blinked away over the North Pole, only 1,200 miles dis- 

 tant. The scene was sublime, the stars and stripes at 

 the masthead taking our hearts back thousands of miles 

 to America and home, and the sun luring our eyes to 

 penetrate its burning rays and see beyond. F'lin. 



ME AN VENUS AND LYIN' BILL. 



a obituary, thet is to sa partly abowt J. 



AINTded?!!! The blame long hared nokneed pari- 

 toed sun ov everlastin lyin n heers the blame 

 nuspaper bin n publisht a obituary longern mi ole noun's 

 tale all abowt what a good man he was, husbin n father 

 n huntin n fishin n even wurkin, which he nuver did, 

 him a gittin all that kredit n yit a livin minin good grub 

 n liker n the blamed nuspaper nuver sed a wurd abowt 

 Venus n she bin ded most a yere, kum nex grass, n him 

 a haw hawin a redin the mos plezin ly he uver tole a 

 sendin wurd he wur ded to a dog gone lukul publikashun. 

 pleze Mr Editur sa sumthin gud abowt Venus it stiks in 

 mi kraw mitely thet I nuver tuk no steps to enliven the 

 memory ov ez gud a mule ez uver kikt when she wuz 

 shod wich wuz not often bein az she hed hufs hardern 

 iron, with a mos luvly dispersition when nuthin wuz a 

 botherin uv bur wich wuz not often nuther. she wur a 

 dark broun yeller in color with the hare wore off sum- 

 what n sum rnexikin brands skaterd arown hur bine & 4 

 legs n hed lost 1 yere to a lion wich the saim she kikt 

 mos to deth with a hangin down lip were tom's dog bit 

 hur fur eten up a sak ov flower wich the dura fool 

 ortento hev lef in kamp war she kud git it hur eyes wuz 

 luvly kinder hazel in color with a longin luk like a" yung 

 gurl what hed los her mah, or may frum bein nacherly 

 hungry n dide of bowel komplaint. pleze sa sumthin like 

 this To all hoom it may konsern tek notis ole Cazadors 

 mule is ded maybe as how this orto be printed in Big let- 

 ters, he hez los a f athef ul n a grateful f ren by rezen ov hur 

 dien n goen to a hevin whar theers no packs nur rox nur 

 dogs — leastways them az bites mules — whar the grass is 

 always grene n sweetbresh what mules likes groes plenti- 

 ful, bi so doen u will grately oblige yo tru f ren 



El Cazador 



A Necessity.— Glen Allen, Va., April 2.— Tied down 

 to business now, but life not worth the living without 

 your splendid journal and the hopes and memories it 

 nourishes. — W au-Zee. 



