July 21, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
47 
4 
seventy miles square, the northern half of it being a wil- 
derness of islands, according to some writers, numbering 
more than ten thousand. It might seem that when the 
earth was being formed there was found a surplus of this 
geographical feature, and they were thrown together in 
this remote corner to put tbem out of the way. 
One day on the little steam tug, took us over the Lake 
of the Woods to Rat Portage. As we drew near the 
northern shore, we found the islands gay with campers 
and picnic parties, for many come here from Winnipeg 
to take a summer outing, and certainly a more delightful 
spot it would be hard to find, and the place is destined in 
the future to become a popular summer resort, where rest 
and recuperation will be found for the jaded nerves and 
brain. 
The Lake of the Woods empties at its northwest 
corner, by several outlets, into the Winnipeg River, and 
here in picturesque gorges are found two beautiful falls 
from whose eddies the disciple of Walton, having crept 
down the rocks and dropped in his hook, has the; exhil- 
aration of landing many a fine fish. On one ofi these 
falls is located the electric light plant that illuminates 
the town, for Rat Portage, though so far north and 
solitary, has quite a metropolitan air about it, and is in 
immediate touch with the whole civilized world, being 
on the line of the great Canadian Pacific Railway. 
We had now come about 240 miles by canoe and steam- 
boats since we left the 
railway at Tower. Here, 
about 1 o'clock in the 
morning, we boarded the 
west-bound train, crossed 
the iron bridges over the 
streams just mentioned, 
roared through the tun- 
nel in the rock, and sped 
on to the city of Winni- 
peg, and ninety miles 
further, over boundless 
prairie and through bil- 
lowy fields of wheat to 
my destination. 
The Province of Mani- 
toba is peculiarly rich in 
the number and variety 
of its aquatic birds. In 
Glenboro I had the pleas- 
ure of meeting Mr. J. B. 
Mathers, who prepared 
the exhibit of birds and 
mammals for the World's 
Fair. Of the former he 
sent pairs of 266 differ- 
ent species or varieties 
and of the latter 52 pairs. 
Mr. Mathers assured me 
there are places in the 
Duck Mountains, about 
300 miles from Winnipeg, 
where the deer have run- 
ways worn several feet 
deep going to their 
watering pla ces, and d ur- 
ing the deep snows of a 
recent winter the In- 
dians made great havoc 
among them, taking 
nothing but the head 
and hide. 
In closing, I would 
say, this trip over the 
border by paddle and 
portage gave me a taste 
of something for which 
I have often hungered, 
but I am not yet satiated, 
and many a time since 
then, in the craft of the 
mind— still lighter^ than the birchen vessel that bore us 
— propelled by the silent paddles of memory and fancy, 
have I found myself gliding again over these northern 
waters. S^N. McAdoo. 
" Forest and Stream's " Yellowstone 
Park Game Exploration. 
No. 9. i 
appetites and were all in perfect health except Holte, 
who practically fell out of the trip at this point. He had 
neglected to wear his glasses on the last day out and was 
now nearly blind as a result, besides being pretty well 
tired down by the long march. Holte was only a boy, 
barely 21, and though a good shoer he was too slight to 
stand the work as well as his mate, Lirsen. Both were 
good cheerful boys and we could not have asked better. 
We let Holte go back in to the Post with one of the men 
from the Firehole station ahead of us, the others staying 
on for the trip through the geyser basins. 
Died Alone in the Snow. 
The dangers of winter travel in this wild region were 
painfully brought to view for us during our stay at the 
^Fountain Basin. Sergt. Moran and one man had just 
jgotten in from Riverside station, the extreme westerly 
patrol station of the Park, distant 15 miles from the 
Fountain or Lower Geyser Basin. Moran was asking 
anxiously for news of his other man, Alex. Matthews, 
who had started for the Fountain two weeks before. 
Matthews had not been heard from nt either end of the 
route, and the hard conclusion had to be accepted that he 
had lost the trail and died alone in the snow. Capt. 
Anderson, knowing well the risks of shoeing in the Park, 
has issued strict orders that no soldier shall go out alone 
and no sergeant in charge of a patrol station has authority 
The Effects of Solitude. 
If it be true that it is well for man to be much with 
nature, it is equally true that is not well for him to be too 
much alone with nature. No hermit is absolutely sane. 
No Western sheep herder ever passed beyond seven years 
at his solitary calling without becoming mentally affected, 
and in the West the class is notorious for "cranks." Sur- 
rounded by the tokens of man's handiwork and presence, 
under a roof and within communicating distance of other 
men, the case of the solitary man is different, yet even 
such environments will leave visible effect. The winter 
keepers of the Park show the marks of their calling. I 
have spoken of John Folsom as the most silent man in the 
world. At the Fountain we found John Schmidt, the 
winter keeper, quite the opposite of this. He was de- 
lighted to see us, and talked freely with us on all sorts of 
topics. He would sit and talk on and on, and while I 
presume he never knew the difference, his voice had a 
low, even monotone, no doubt the reflex voice of his 
monotonous, solitary life. I said solitary, but this should 
be qualified. Mr. Schmidt had two enormous house cats 
and a dog. The two cats were bitter enemies and fought 
on sight, but each loved their keeper as much as he did 
tbem. One of them would crawl up on his lap and put 
its paws around his neck, and he would sit and stroke it 
by the hour. For the dog we visitors had no affection 
because that animal had a habit of sitting up all night 
and barking at the wolves and foxes which every night 
came in about the hotel kitchen where we made our 
abode. Often the dog would come running in and bark- 
ing full voice, and then we knew he had struck something 
bigger than a fox, and wondered what it was. Meantime 
we did not sleep. 
Our little stop at the Fountain was very pleasant, the 
more so because John Schmidt was an efficient hand at 
getting up good and frequent meals, We enjoyed rude 
SUNRISE IN GEYSER-LA.ND, 
Photo by E. Hough. Fobest and Stream: Yellowstone Park Game Exploration. 
to send out a man alone. Moran was very uneasy and 
explained that Matthews had insisted on going alone over 
to the Fountain after the mail. He had been over the 
trail before and laughed at the idea that he could not 
make the trip in safety. Moran went to the top of the 
hill with him, A.\ or 5 miles, and from there the trail was 
easier and should have been plain. Matthews had a 
lunch with him and some matches, but nothing else 
by way of supplies. He might possibly have gotten 
through two or three days and nights, not more. What 
probably happened is that he was caught in some sudden 
storm, which blotted out all landmarks and left him with 
no idea of the points of the compass. Wandering from 
the trail, frightened at the awful situation which faced 
him, he no doubt exerted every energy to keep up the 
highest possible speed . and so became heated up. When 
night came with its added horrors, he was forced to stop. 
Perhaps he built a fire, but he had no blankets, and worn 
out and discouraged as he was, he perhaps dozed by the 
fire. Then came the dreaded chilling through, the stupor, 
the rigor. The wolves would soon find him then. Private 
Matthews's bones, last witness of another of the hidden 
tragedies of the mountains, may perhaps some day be 
found by the searching parties which sixty days later had 
proved unsuccessful. His bones may be found to the left 
of his trail, down in the Madison Canon, or may be to the 
right, in the lower mountains, or perhaps he may have 
wandered miles back into the inner ranges, where men 
never go. His actual fate may perhaps always be a mys- 
tery. Desertion from the army was out of the question 
for him, equipped as he was, indeed an impossibility, for 
he would have been obliged to pass by some station for 
supplies. Heavy snows had wiped out all trails at the 
time we saw Moran, and later, after the thawing and 
sinking of the snow, the raised trail of the skis could not 
be found where it was expected Matthews had gone. He 
no doubt lost his head early in the day and got entirely 
out of his course. At the time we left the Park he had 
not been heard from, and since then I have not learned 
oth^r news. Private Matthews enlisted at Cleveland, O. 
Moran wished to report to Capt. Anderson at once, of 
course, but the wire was down. On this account the man 
was sent in from Firehole Station, Holte accompanying 
him. They found the br^ak near Norris Station, and the 
message reached the Post before they did. At the Foun- 
tain all we could do was to look sadly at the white moun- 
tains to the west, which held their secret tranquilly and 
coldly. Had it been two days instead of two weeks after 
tn© non-appearance of Matthews, something might have 
been done by searching, but as it was we all knew search 
was utterly useless, and so did not make up any party for 
it. Capt. Anderson duly sent out a search party on re- 
ceipt of the new,s, but no one of the detail had any hope 
of success. 
Among the Geysers. 
Billy and I spent a couple of days resting and seeing 
the geysers, and of course, being new in the Park, I took 
the keenest interest in the wonderful spectacles of that 
weird region. We put in a half day in hard work with 
the camera, and made views of the Fountain Geyser, the 
Paint Pots and several of the minor geysers. I had also 
a good view or two o* the hotel, half buried as it was in 
the snow. I can remember very clearly that afternoon, 
when toward evening the clouds broke and gave us a, 
hint of the glories of a mountain sunset. The white 
armies of the snow were marching in endless file across 
the wide valley, and the same winds which drove them 
made endless involutions of the mystic mist veils of the 
geysers, made tenfold more distinct by the contact with 
the frostful air of winter. Near by us the breath of the 
mighty Fountain Geyser had congealed in a thousand 
prankish forms upon the trees nearest to it. Away in the 
background the sun was struggling bravely with the op- 
posing clouds, and to the right of where it was sinking, 
appeared the high front of Mt. Holmes, just cut in half 
by a white snow-bearing spirit of the storm. I do not 
know what other time 
or what other region 
could produce a scene 
parallel to this. It is one 
of the panels of the 
majestic panorama 
which in my dreams I 
still can see to-day. 
Off for the Upper 
Basin. 
After seeing the main 
points of interest at the 
lower Firehole Basin, we 
concluded to visit the 
yet more wonderful 
scenes of the Upper 
Basin, and on a beauti- 
ful bright morning set 
out from the Fountain 
for that purpose, taking 
Larsen along with us. 
We made fine time with 
the skis till we reached 
the middle or Midway 
Basin, when the snow 
began to stick. We cared 
little for that, however, 
for the beauties about us 
compelled forgetfulness 
of physical exertion. 
Here we saw geysers 
and geysers and geysers, 
all sorts, all colors, all 
shapes. One of the most 
startling of the features 
of this district is the 
Prismatic Pool, a beauti- 
ful great pool, whose 
surface is bordered by a 
wide band of deposit 
which in regular and 
sharply defined lines 
"shows almost every color 
of the rainbow. This 
prismatic ribbon extends 
quite around the pool, 
and is as evenly laid on 
as though by the hand of 
a skilled painter. It is 
well known that the dif- 
erent colored algae form in different temperatures of the 
water, and this accounts for the different colors on 
many of the geyser terraces, but to find this regular parti- 
colored band showing the lines of color so vividly de- 
marked is almost too startling for scientific theorizing. I 
like better to call it the alchemy of nature used in sport, 
the bubble-blowing of the Titans, the chemistry and the 
art of elves. 
The great Excelsior Geyser, whose tremendous crater 
could swallow up a troop of horse and not feel it, was not 
playing, of course, for it has not been active for years, 
but all the interior of the vast crater was a blinding mass 
of white steam. Out of this crater ran a brook of boiling 
water, which fell into the Madison River' after its course 
of a few yards. In its palmy days the old Excelsior when 
spouting threw out a boiling flood which raised the Madi- 
son a foot in height. Some year3 ago a trooper was ford- 
ing the Madison when Excelsior was in action, and his 
horse was caught by the hot flood of water and so badly 
scalded that it died. Excelsior is the largest geyser in the 
world. What its future is to be the grumbling, hissing 
crater would not tell, but all students of the Park hope it 
will resume activity after the present business depression 
shall have passed. 
Wildfowl in Winter. 
While at the Midway Basin I saw a flock of seven wild 
Canada geese flying down the Madison. In the Prismatic 
Poollfound the bones and feathers of a wild duck, which 
no doubt had been scalded to death. Wildfowl often 
light in the hot pools and are fatally scalded before they 
can escape. The foxes make quite a good thing out of 
this, and enjoy the luxury of game not only caught but 
cooked in advance. 
A Lovely Stream. 
After we left the Midway Basin we followed up the 
valley of the Madison, which is here a lovely stream. 
We saw numbers of ducks in the river, and were near 
enough to have shot them, but not near enough to photo- 
graph successfully. All along the Madison there are little 
hot steam peanut roasters of geysers, busily engaged in 
making steam for the sake of the landscape, and at some 
of these the frost effects, where the steam had condensed 
and congealed upon the foliage of the surrounding trees, 
were so beautiful that we could not resist the temptation 
to unpack and use a camera. Especially good views ap- 
peared as we neared tbe Upper Basin, and I haye one 
