July 14, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
28 
quietly and a better chance given than if the party were 
larger. Holte was complaining of his eyes, he having 
carelessly left off his glasses a part of the day before, and 
contracted a very good chance for snow blindness. We did 
everything we could for the eyes that morning, after we 
had put out the fire and put everything in military order 
about the shack. 
Again they Get the Buffalo. 
We followed the trail left by Billy and Larsen until we 
had climbed up to the "hot country." Here there were 
numerous wide strips of bare ground, too hot for the snow 
to lie upon, where the buffalo evidently were in the habit 
of yarding. Abundance of sign was all about, and we 
saw deep fresh trails where there had been a stampede, so 
we knew that Billy had started the buffalo, whether he 
got a shot at them or not. I could see that part of the 
herd had plowed their way east back to Alum Creek, and 
part had gone straight ahead to the higher buttes into 
the dense forest and apparently in the direction of the 
heaviest snow, though we later saw that there was more 
hot country further up the mountain. As I learned from 
Billy later, he had had a feplendid opportunity'that morn- 
ing. He surprised the whole herd on the 
lower hot strip of Mary's Mountain, and 
stalked them to within 40yds. , as close as 
he cared to get. The light was good and 
he made several shots deliberately before 
the herd took fright. When they did 
start they went like a volcano, or an 
earthquake, or anything that is big and 
in a hurry. 
The Buffalo Estimated. 
Billy thought that these were no doubt 
the same buffalo that we h«d photo- 
graphed on Alum Creek the day before, 
and barring the six head we had seen 
lower down on Hayden Valley, we were 
quite sure that this constituted practically 
the entire Hayden Valley herd, from 80 to 
100 in all — 85 head as exactly as I could 
count it. We concluded it was not worth 
while to trouble these same buffalo any 
further, more especially as Billy had had 
fifty-eight shots at buffalo alone with his 
camera. The work on Hayden Valley 
seemed done. We took the Haynes re- 
port as to the game on the Pelican Valley, 
and decided not to make the long trip 
into that region in search of what we 
were practically certain not to find. The 
poacher Howell said there were only a 
few buffalo left on Pelican. We were 
now well settled in the conviction that the 
number of buffalo left alive in the Park 
was not one-half or one-third that gener- 
ally supposed, and from what we had seen we feared 
that the killing had been heavier than any one had 
dreamed. I would state here that I think our view 
of the case was conservative and fairly accurate. One 
knowing the country less thoroughly than Billy might 
have supposed that the buffalo seen this day and 
the day before were two distinct herds. Believing this, 
his report would declare the number seen and actually 
counted to be just twice what it really was. Let us 
wait till some one has seen in one day and in one herd 
200 buffalo in the Park before we ever again believe 
there are so many as that left. I do not believe there are 
150. Of course I have not given all 
the little details of our investigations 
on Hayden Valley, but they were really 
thorough. We worked hard and crossed 
the valley from end to end and from 
side to side, and I do not think we 
missed a bunch of any size. Now we 
had seen the product of the hot country 
on Mary's Mountain, about the only 
other possibly wintering ground of con- 
sequence remaining to be visited. If 
our soarch had not been thorough, I 
think it will be long before one is 
made that is more so. As only a few 
portions of the Park are or can be in- 
habited by the large game in the winter 
season, we felt that now a great part of 
our work was done. It remained to 
take a look at the Nez Perce Valley, 
where occasionally a few head of buf- 
falo drift in, and after that to return to 
the north and go over into the north- 
eastern corner of the Park to see about 
the elk wintering there. 
A Glorious Privilege. 
Mountain, with the many strips of hot country between, 
and at length came out upon Mary's Lake, directly on the 
summit. This body of water was now simply a level 
plain of snow. We found that by digging down a few 
feet in the snow we could get water, all the lower level of 
the snow seeming to be soaked full. We di'ank but spar- 
ingly, and pushed on hard as we could, for wherever 
the sun struck the snow now it was growing sticky, and 
we had many a weary mile before us yet. We did not 
follow the water trail which makes out for the west from 
Mary's Lake, but cut across a little ridge and finally 
worked out upon the west side of the Mary's Mountain 
summit or divide, from which we could look all over the 
Nez Perce Valley, down which we were to go. Here we 
paused and spent a long time in the view. Fifteen miles 
to the west and south we could see the two low, round- 
topped buttes which mark the Firehole Valley near the 
Fountain Hotel. The white course of the creek valley lay 
like a broad ribbon between, apparently running directly 
in under the foot of the mountain on which we stood. 
Between us and the foot of this summit there stretched a 
black forest of pines, .through which no ski runner, no 
matter how daring, could run down direct, yet some- 
The immediate thing to be done, after 
Holte and I had overtaken the others — 
at the end of five miles' hard shoeing 
through the heaviest timber on Mary's 
Mountain, where time and again Holte 
declared that Hofer was "sure lost and 
goin' clean wrong," though we stuck to the trail of the 
shoes ahead, or followed the arrow marks on the snow- 
covered rocks when the trail crossed the hot ground 
—the immediate and pressing thing to be done, how- 
ever, was to get to the top of the divide as quickly as 
possible, and then get down again on the other side to the 
kitchen of the Fountain Hotel as fast as possible, or a 
little faster. So we pressed on up the grades of the east 
slope, only stopping for a moment for breath when we 
paused at all. In spite of the hard work and the hurry, 
I could not help pausing once in a while to look back at the 
majestic panorama which unfolded more and more as we 
climbed higher and higher up the mountain. It was a 
rare and noble picture that lay unfolded, and one that I 
shall cherish many a year in memory. The Hayden Val- 
ley and its setting-clasps of timber points lay like a jewel 
of the range before us. Beyond it the mountains faded 
into the sky, white peaks rising saliently between. Nearer 
at hand the summits and canons were more distinct. 
Below us, in the immediate foreground, lay the black for- 
est, with masses of shade and all the contrasted high lights 
of the incumbent snow, dazzling under the radiance of a 
brilliant winter morning. It was a glorious sight— a glori- 
ous, glorious privilege to spe it! 
The View West from the Divide. 
We crossed the last of the upper buttes of Mary's 
BUFFALO FEEDING. 
Photo by E. Hofer. 
where through that bristling wood, and somehow on that 
rugged mountain side, wound the single trail by which 
we could get down. What the run was to be, one can 
imagine. Five miles of it was to be very fast, then the 
gradual slope of the water grade down to the Firehole 
Basin, about 10 miles more. 
Some Civil Engineering. 
The reader of this has perhaps traveled mountain trails, 
cut into the side of a declivity, and built on a grade so 
steep that a horse could barely go up or down. In that 
case it is only|a"question]Jof jthehip and down angle, for 
BUFFALO IN " HOT COUNTRY. 1 1 
Photo by John Polsom. 
the wheels sit flat or the horse goes on a level keel. But 
now suppose we blot out the entire trail with a fall of 
snow which fills up the cuts and buries all the fills, and 
makes the whole mountain side a slanting sheet of white. 
The ski runner, mounted on his glassy-bottomed snow 
skates, has before him two problems and two angles to be 
considered. He must take the down grade, but must 
cling to the side of the hill as he goes down. He must 
not ship or fall, and so get a broken back in course of the 
headlong roll which would ensue upon that. He must 
not steer too high up the side hill, and get into a box out 
of which he could only escape by a straight down grade 
too sharp for him to consider. None of these things must 
he do. He has in coming up gained elevation and held 
it jealously as long as he could. Now, a civil engineer in 
flight, with but the space of a wink to form and carry out 
his decision, he must throw away his acquired elevation 
just as rapidly as he can with safety. He must lay a 
course with as sharp a gradient as he dares. This was the 
problem before us, and as I looked at the sharp downward 
sweeps of the west Bide of the divide, I was willing to 
admit that mistakes in taking that run were likely to be 
costly. We had had some sharp spins in getting this far 
down, but now the trail to be taken made one bold sweep 
down, out on open ground, then doubled sharply 
back into the black forest, as steep as a set of cellar 
stairs. Beyond the forest line no deponent said any- 
thing. 
A Leg or Two is Nothing. 
All this writes pretty well, but we didn't talk about it 
very much. We cleared off the bottoms of the skis, and 
set the straps right and wondered how far we could slide 
before the snow got too sticky. Then Larsen, who was 
ahead on the trail at that time, quietty turned loose, set- 
ting on brakes with his pole as sharply as he could. With 
the indescribable, smooth, even motion peculiar to the 
ski run, he settled, shrank, condensed, shortened, seemed 
to grow smaller rather than go further. There was a 
light crust on part of the hill, and he flew over this and 
hardly broke it. Then he crunched through snow crust 
the sun had weakened, but tarried not at all. In the light 
snow we saw him throw up a long skit of white behind 
him. Then he leaned heavily over, got around the sharp 
bend and vanished like a flash into the forest, gathering 
a speed which showed what sort of a grade it was there. 
Holte followed Larsen and Billy took their tracks. 
Holte and Billy both got slight falls, but made the bend. 
I got around the corner myself in their wake, and then 
nearly lost my breath at the jump downward the trail 
took as it turned into the wood. I could 
not by any means stop the speed. I sat 
astride the pole, but the momentum tore 
the end out of the snow and I got no 
brake of it. I jumped one hole in the 
snow where some fellow had had a 
tumble, and at length, taking one of the 
dozen corkscrew turns, I went bang! into 
a bank and came a great cropper right 
where Holte had done the same thing. 
On a run like that a fellow doesn't much 
care what he does or where he goes. My 
dignity suffers when I reflect how we all 
ran the last of the steepest grades, yell- 
ing like demons, and wishing, I do be- 
lieve, that the snow was a little smoother 
and the gait a bit more keen. The first 
plunge of a sharp ski run is the only 
trouble. After that the impending loss of 
a spinal column or a leg or two doesn't 
seem to disturb one very much. 
Winter Home of the Beaver. 
We made rapid time till we got into 
deep woods and soft snow, and then the 
shoes began to stick. The snow got worse 
and worse, and we had to waste over two 
hours in the middle of the day, waiting 
for it to mend. We built a fire, made a 
little meal, and gave our skis as thorough 
and scientific a roasting and waxing as 
they got any time on the trip. At this 
camp poor Holte forgot his revolver, and 
had to go back after it, a mile and a 
half and return, all of which made him swear very 
cordially of course. 
When we came to crossing the Beaver Creek, we found 
it no easy matter, for the beavers have a dam here, and 
this had backed the water up into a dozen different chan- 
nels, each so wide that it was next to impossible to jump 
on the skis. The water seemed to be from warmish 
springs, for it was mostly open and running, though often 
nearly covered by the deep drifts of snow. There is a 
Government postal shack here, but we found it half full 
of ice and water, as it sits in the willows on the level of 
the natural bank. After managing to get over the beaver 
waters, we built another fire, and again 
touched up our skis. It was here that 
we waited for Holte's return. That 
youth was in a bad fix, showing a little 
disposition to tire down, a tendency to 
snow blindness and a pronounced in- 
clination to profanity. He was, as the 
saying among sfcifolk goes, "quarreling 
with his skis," which is natural, whether 
it does any good or not. 
Hard Plugging. 
Across the Nez Perce lay mile after 
mile of nearly level snow. It was just 
straight ahead, hard "plugging" here, 
the sort of going the ski man dreads 
most of all. We kept up a pretty 
steady swing till we got along into the 
Firehole timber. Here Billy's sore heel 
began to pain him seriously, and his 
big camera was nearly killing him. I 
traded loads with him, as my pack 
was now getting lighter, and was be- 
low 201bs. We left Billy on a snow- 
covered stump, calmly examining his 
sore foot, which he had bare in the 
cool evening breeze. He said he would 
soon overtake us, but we were quite a 
way down stream before he did. Then 
we found a log across the river, and 
knowing we were now only a couple of 
miles or so from our objective point, 
as fast as we could, finally crossing 
of the Firehole on a crusted snow 
wind, for it had turned cold. It was 
black night when we stumbled into the kitchen of 
the Fountain Hotel, with a good deal of the starch out of 
us, but still alive. Each man was made to dance a jig 
before supper, just to show that he was feeling good and 
lively. We had traveled over 20 miles that day, with all 
all sorts of shoeing, most of it pretty bad. 
Nez Perce Buffalo. 
From the summit as we looked west we saw on the 
Nez Perce Valley what we thought to be three buffalo, 
but we could not confirm this when we got down to the 
level of the valley. The buffalo do sometimes cross the 
divide about where we did , and work between the hot 
country of Mary's Mountain and this sheltered little 
valley. They have not wintered on the west side of the 
divide in any numbers for a considerable time. 
Struck Some Charms. 
At the Fountain Hotel we found John Schmidt in 
charge, and he took the best of care of us. I am disposed 
to believe that he felt a mild surprise at the appetites we 
showed. 
At tn© Fountain Hotel we proposed to^stop for a couple 
we strung out 
the open valley 
and in a sharp 
