Jult 7, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
3 
the cameras were soon on a steep knoll above him, about 
250 yards distant. Here Billy sat down in the snow and 
deliberately took a few shots at the old fellow, who 
seemed entirely ignorant of what was going on. At the 
critical moment- Mr. Haynes found that his plates were 
with Morrison and Burns, and they were not visible. He 
turned back to find them. Meanwhile I crawled up to 
Billy, and we sat watching the old bull for fully five 
minutes. He was standing broadside to us, with his head 
hanging down, quite motionless, and was probably asleep. 
When at length Mr. Haynes had found his assistants, he 
made an exposure or two on the bull, then Billy, he and 
Morrison got their skis ready and whisked down the hill 
to get a closer shot. They got actually right up to the 
bank of the creek beyond which he stood, not forty yards 
away, and got a close side view. Then Morrison tossed a 
bit of snow at him, and the bull, stupidly turning around, 
stood looking at them, directly head on, as if to ask what 
the mischief it was all about. Both the camera men im- 
proved this second chance for a view, and still another 
success was scored before the sleepy-headed old fellow 
deliberately turned and slowly rolled himself away out of 
sight around a point of timber. This buffalo was close to 
the creek, and no doubt the noise of the running water 
drowned the faint 
noise of the skis on 
the snow. The little 
contretemps made 
a singular and 
rather ludicrous in- 
cident. It was a 
most obliging buf- 
falo, to stand and 
look pleasant while 
it was having its 
picture taken. Usu- 
ally they will not do 
that. 
Barefooted, Be- 
low Zero. 
We were now 
again at Alum 
Creek, but on the 
wrong side of the 
creek, and a long 
distance below the 
place where we had 
crossed it going up, 
even had we wished 
to undertake a 
second crossing 
there. There was 
no way of gptting 
over without going 
five miles down 
stream, which 
would throw us far 
out of our road to 
camp. The stream 
was at that point 
10 or 15yds. wide 
and about knee 
deep on the ripple 
near which we 
stood. It ran 
through a bare val- 
ley, and there was 
no way of getting 
a footbridge over it, 
even if we had had 
an axe. Nothing 
remained but to 
wade the creek, and 
to strip for it, for if 
we went in with 
our shoes on and got 
wet, our feet would 
freeze in a very few 
moments after com- 
ing out. 
It was now well on toward evening, and the day had 
been steadily growing colder. Comparing the temperature 
with that observed at the Canon that morning, we thought 
it to be about 9° below zero, probably a very moderate 
estimate. I noticed that Morrison had tied up his ears, 
and Billy had cautioned me to be very careful or I would 
freeze my ears. I noticed also that we chilled very quickly 
after we stopped traveling. On the whole, the idea of 
sitting down on the snow, taking off one's shoes and 
stockings, and deliberately stepping into that ice cold 
mountain stream, was something not altogether inviting 
at first flush. I remember I looked at that black, wintry ; 
cold-looking stream for a moment, and wishing it were 
not quite so wide. I would rather have done almost any- 
thing else right then than wade that creek. Still, we had 
to wade, and a fellow can do a lot of things when he has 
to. Everything in life is relative. 
We sat down on the icy bank, unbuckled our ice- 
stiffened foot-wear, stripped our feet bare to the skin, and 
then rolled our trousers up as high as they would go, as 
we knew it would be a near thing at that, for mountain 
streams are deeper than they look. We had to carry our 
skis, overshoes, etc., etc., balancing these on one shoulder 
and using the free hand with the ski pole to steady the 
footing in the rushing stream. 
Any one who does not wish the trouble of an experi- 
ence just like the above can tell how it goes, I imagine, by 
inserting his feet in an ice cream freezer and leaving them 
for an hour or so. The water was cold and swift, and the 
rocks were cold and slippery, and one had to go slow and 
carefully to avoid a disastrous mis-step — which under the 
circumstances might fairly have been fatal, for to get 
one's clothes wet meant to freeze stiff in spite of all. Yet 
one by one we emerged on the other side without mishap. 
Poor Billy, with his camera and all, could not get all over 
at one trip, and as I did not notice this till we were over, 
and so did not take part of his load. Billy had to go back 
after his skis. By that time Mr. Haynes had jerked on his 
stockings, and as Billy got about midstream on his way 
back, Mr. Haynes called to him to hold still while he got 
a picture of him. Billy posed patiently, out in the ice 
water, and Mr, Haynes made a careful shot. The result 
is a very interesting picture, showing Billy in the creek, 
with others just putting on their shoes. 
When the wind struck our wet feet and legs we came 
gut of the water, it cut like a knrfie, and we had to hurry 
in drying our feet, or they would have frozen. I know 
that while I was rubbing one foot, the toes on the other 
began to stick together. When I got so far along as the 
lacing of my leggings, my fingers stuck to the metal 
hooks, as they will to iron on a very cold morning. Yet 
not one of us got chilled, and not one of us felt the worse 
for it ten minutes afterwai'd. Not one of us touched a 
drop of spirits, and indeed could not have done so had we 
needed to, for there was none along. Not the slightest ill 
effect ever followed for any of us. In fact, the system gets 
so tuned up on a hard outdoor trip like this that it will 
take almost any hardship without injury. 
More Buffalo Pictures. 
Soon after we crossed the creek, we saw on the hills 
above us the same five buffalo we had started earlier in 
the afternoon. Morrison and Burns made a long detour, 
and as the buffalo saw them come up on the other side, 
they turned and made back down the trail they had 
trodden in going up, giving us a good chance for some 
more flying shots at them as they approached the lower 
level where we stood. Seeing us, the buffalo left the 
trail and began milling on the top of a little knoll, not 
over 35yds. from us. I believe neither camera got a rjic- 
CAMP FOREST AND STREAM. 
Where Messrs. Hough and Hofer spent the night, mercury 21° below 
Photo [by Haynes on the following morning. 
ture of them at this point, or until they had again lined 
out on the trail. As they plunged up and down in the 
deep snow, with only half their bodies visible, they looked 
huge and formidable. It was noticeable that they seemed 
of a gray color, not black or brown, by reason of the 
snow matted in their hair. They live and feed and lie in 
the snow, and get snowed on so much that their hair is 
full of it. 
The buffalo at length broke away from the knoll and 
started a new trail, off for the top of the ridge. They 
went slowly, laboriously, painfully, almost tired out and 
.WHAT BILLY DREAMED THE NIGHT ]T WAS 21° BELOW ZEEO. 
Fhoto by E. Hough. 
helplesss, powerful as they were. It seems to me that 
only one emotion is possible at such a sight to-day. No 
man could have the thought of killing one of these great 
creatures under such circumstances. He could only first 
admire and then pity them from the bottom of his heart. 
It is a hard fight they are waging now for survival. Can 
not Congress, can not humanity, help them? 
Camp "Forest and Stream," 2 1 Below Zero. 
We were now about four miles or so, perhaps, from our 
open-work tepee in the island of timber below, and as fast 
as we were able we made for that point, it being late 
evening when we got there, though the twilight is very 
long in that latitude in winter. Billy and I had all the 
packs of our party along, but the total of bedding was 
just one single blanket and the light sleeping bag. The 
thermometer was steadily falling, and it was already very 
cold. The majority of the party determined to return to 
the Canon Hotel quarters, not risking a night of sitting 
up around a fire. We had had a hard day of it, traveling 
I suppose, at least eighteen miles up to that time, and it 
was about six miles more back to the Cafion. Billy and I 
concluded to chance it at the tepee, and we were the only 
ones who did. The rest bade us goodby, and went away 
jokingly telling us 
that they would 
come and thaw us 
out in the morning. 
"We can't sleep 
in this place the 
way it's fixed now," 
said Billy, after the 
others had gone. 
' 'We've got to short- 
en those poles, so 
the lodge lining will 
lean over us a little 
more and throw 
some of the heat 
down." So saying, 
he went to work 
with the axe and 
proposed to make a 
more woodsmanlike 
tepee than our 
friends had done. 
He cut about 4ft. 
off the end of each 
pole and rearranged 
them all at the top. 
This left them 
closer together at 
tho top and not so 
high above us, with 
a much less acute 
angle at the top. 
Then we cut pine 
boughs and filled in 
all around between 
the snow wall of 
the lodge poles and 
put chunks of snow 
back of that, so 
that the wind would 
not suck down the 
wall behind us. 
After that we tied 
the light lodge lin- 
ing around inside, 
and the tepee now 
being smaller, the 
lining met at the 
door, so that we 
had a fair wall 
around us, though 
no roof to speak of. 
The lining pitched 
forward pretty well, 
making a circular 
•'lean-to" wall, 
which would throw 
theheat of our fire in and down. We got in a lot of wood, 
and of course built our fire in the center of the tepee, of 
necessity not a very big fire. Under the lining we laid 
down the side logs of our beds, of which we made two. 
Between the loss we piled in pine boughs for bedding, as 
many as we could find out in the snow, for we had now 
been working an hour and a half, and it was about as 
dark as it ever would be that night. 
Billy and I had some of the product of the lowly but 
useful hog for supper that night, with a little bread. 
Billy melted snow and made tea, and I melted snow and 
made coffee, being plenty scared about tea after my ex- 
perience with it the first day out. It took more than a 
quart of coffee to scare me that night", however. We had 
had a hard day and were pretty well tired down. 
We hung up the cameras on horizontal limbs and stood 
the skis up on end in the snow, so the porcupines could 
not get at the straps, and not long after supper we turned 
in, if one may call it so. We put on all the extra clothing 
we had and crawled into our scanty bedding, hugging 
the saving fire as closely as we dared. To-day Billy's 
sleeping-bag has a long scorch on the back, where I got 
too close to the fire at one stage of the game. 
It was an odd night, and I shall not forget it. The 
forest was absolutely silent, not a creak of a limb or a 
whisper of a bough falling on the ear. The sky was blue 
and cloudless, and through the meager rafters of our 
house the great stars shone brilliantly down. Our little 
fire snapped and smoked, and flared and felh and continu- 
ally crxved food to keep away the spirit of destruction. 
How shall I describe it — this feeling that there was a 
Spirit of Cold about on every hand, eager to destroy? 
One could feel it tapping, tapping, for weak places in 
one's covering and in one's vitality. There were silent, 
spirit fingers feeling all over one to find some point of 
stealthy assault. A veil of cold lay upon the face. One 
felt, vaguely, restlessly — and in sleep one dreamed it half 
fearingly — that above the bed of these violators of the 
wilderness secrecy there bent a white-winged, stony- 
faced Spirit of Cold, with fingers creeping, creeping. A 
tiny rpnt in the sleeping-bag felt like a hand of ice all 
night long Every thin place in the covering was tapped, 
tapped, incessantly, remorselessly, by those invisible and 
persistent fingers of the frost;. 
Of course, had .we had proper bedding, we should hav 
had not so much of an experience of it, but we were very 
