46 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Jan. 10, 1914 - 
noon. We find that Mrs. McCarthy has preceded 
us, which is an assurance that things are in right 
shape for our entertainment. Soon we are in 
our quarters, lunch is announced, appetites are 
satisfied, some fishing tackle is secured, “All 
Aboard” is heard, and we are now hurrying to 
look upon some of the most enchanting scenery of 
the journey through the Park. Rustic Falls at¬ 
tracts your eyes, not so much because of the 
mightiness of the falls, but because of the most 
beautiful and lovely Bridal Veil, formed by the 
mist of the falls, upon which the eye ever fell. 
In a few minutes we are in the midst of the 
dead. The Hoodoos are everywhere, here, yon¬ 
der, all around you. The devils slide down the 
great Bunsen Peak, and the devil’s horse is so 
close to the roadside that you can touch it. The 
weird region all about you makes you feel that 
you are in a country where nothing moves, or 
even speaks save in a whisper amid the darkness 
and gloom of the moonless and starless night. 
The thought of the beautiful, exquisitely shaped 
Bridal Veil, upon which your eyes rested with 
such a thrill of pleasure, still lingers when you 
are suddenly rushed into this dismal and dreary 
region. You cannot but think, “Is it possible 
that this is the region of darkness and death into 
which the persons of unhappy marriages enter 
so soon after the bright and joyous hour indi¬ 
cated by the Bridal Veil at the Falls that only so 
short time ago filled so many hearts with delight 
and gladness? Mammoth Hot Springs are now 
before our scrutinizing gaze, as we are led hither 
and thither by the guide provided for our instruc¬ 
tion regarding these wonderful springs. He has 
a hard job keeping the crowd steered away from 
the places of danger. The springs are at an 
altitude of 6,275 to 6,575 feet, and they and the 
terraces that have been formed by the deposits 
from the springs occupy a number of acres on 
the slope of Terrace Mountain. Narrow Gauge 
Terrace is about 300 feet long and when active 
is filled with miniature geysers and springs which 
send out deposits most beautifully colored. But 
where the geysers and springs are no longer 
active, the deposits are a glaring chalk-white, and 
the coloring is only found on the active terraces. 
The largest terrace of the entire group is Jupiter 
Terrace, just beneath which is Pulpit Terrace. 
Two large springs of boiling water, fully one 
hundred feet in diameter, supply these two ter¬ 
races, which present the most delicate coloring, 
from the lightest cream to the deepest shades 
of yellow, orange predominating. Our guide told 
us that the crust had been broken through, and 
a sounding line let down to the depths of five 
hundred feet without reaching the bottom of the 
lake of water beneath. My, wouldn’t you hate 
to fall through into that scalding water, that 
would not only take all the hair off your head, 
but the skin off of your body? You cannot but 
feel trembly as you walk over the deposits which 
crunch under your feet. You are about as glad 
to leave as you were to come. Back to Swan 
Lake, where we are to spend our last night in 
the Park. Here we have ice cream made of snow 
taken from a pile of snow some fifteen feet deep 
on July 14, 1913. 
The next day we take the back track for the 
Western Entrance to the Park, where we find 
our sleepers waiting to receive us for our home¬ 
ward journey. We hated to leave the friends of 
the Wylie people that we had made, for they 
had bound us to them by their untiring effort to 
make us pleasant and comfortable, and by their 
invariable courteous treatment, and we all said 
that you can depend on the uniform gentility of 
the Wylie Company. At Salt Lake City, some 
of our party took trains for California, some 
went as far as Denver, where they remained 
over for a few days, but many of us were so 
anxious to see the loved ones at home that we 
said, “TEXAS FOR US!” And to TEXAS we 
went. 
Killing a Stunted Deer in Sonora Mexico 
Minnesota Big Game 
Norwood, Minn., Dec. 31.—Editor Forest and 
Stream: We have no accurate means of know¬ 
ing the exact number of deer killed in Minnesota 
the past open season. 
Our records do show that there were over 
20,000 resident big game licenses issued—a big 
game license can only be issued five days before 
the opening of the season. I have a great many 
friends that hunt big game each season and have 
made it a point this year to ascertain whether 
they were successful in getting a deer. Without 
exception, each one brought home his limit of 
one deer. If we place the total number killed 
at 10,000 I believe it will be well below the mark. 
Only 112 big game non-resident licenses issued— 
87 deer and moose were shipped out of the state 
on these non-resident licenses. Only one accident 
to our knowledge where a man was mistaken for 
a deer and shot. 
Reports from the boys that have come home 
from big game hunting claiming deer more plen¬ 
tiful than ever and no further means necessary 
for their protection. This view of the situation 
I cannot agree with. We must have more places 
of refuge where our deer and moose can breed 
and multiply unmolested. To this end I expect 
to be able at our next board meeting, Jan. 6, 
1914, to set aside Township 60—24, containing 
thirty-six square miles, as a game and bird 
refuge. 
I hunted over this township this last season. 
It is uninhabited—not a settler—contains numer¬ 
ous lakes and streams, and is located about fifty 
miles north of Grand Rapids and twelve miles 
east of Big Fork. There is not even a foot trail 
into this section from Big Fork. 
I might add that I have been reappointed for 
another four-year term by Governor Eberhart. 
The “boost” you gave me some time ago proved 
quite a factor in working matters out. 
Geo. J. Bradley. 
1 DIDN'T like it, and I am not going to do it 
again. It seemed too much like killing a 
goat in a farmer’s back yard, and then if 
it is not genuine sport there is a lot of real con¬ 
tentment in getting in the shade on a hot day 
and staying there. I was in southern Sonora 
near the Yaqui country, and had gone out with 
a Mexican guide to examine a ridge of hills 
where a possible extension to a mine on which 
I was to report might have been located. When 
I speak of heat it means hot, the Sonora kind 
of hot, not the warmth of a summer day, but a 
blighting glow and glare of light and heat under 
which the nerves become tense even to trem¬ 
bling and the land withers before it—where rocks 
and stones are cracked asunder. The Mexicans 
seem to endure it and apparently are comfortable. 
My guide was called Manuel—it’s a common 
name in Mexico, most of the guides are Manuels, 
and they are all very much alike in sentiment if 
not in appearance; the sentiment is, however, 
cheaper in Mexico, they express it in reales 
(value six and a quarter cents, gold), while at 
the north sentiment is expressed in dollars; the 
guides know how. Manuel was a thin, hatchet¬ 
faced individual with stooping shoulders and long 
arms. His appearance was not prepossessing, 
yet he bore all the Mexican characteristics, a 
type intensely indicative of his race, and on 
selecting him from among the applicants for 
work I was not disappointed. I have learned 
through travelling in many lands to look for the 
racial characteristics in selecting men for my 
companions. If I am to have a negro I want 
him black, with a big, good-natured face and 
heavy bones. If I am to have an Indian I want 
him severe, of forbidding appearance, angular 
features, a mouth tightly closed and small eyes 
which look directly at a person. When I wanted 
a Mexican of the bare hills and hot, sandy bush- 
grown plains of Sonora, I engaged Manuel, and 
found in him a tireless, faithful, though not 
always a truthful, companion. The sun and parch- 
mgly dry air had done to him all it could do 
and he was vigorously strong in spite of it. We 
had been working one morning along the ridge 
and toward midday had come to an overhanging 
ledge of rock where there was some shade and 
the hot wind from the sandy plains seemed to 
be tempered a little. Here we stopped to rest 
and I stood leaning against a rock, drinking 
water, of which Manuel carried a good supply, 
and enjoying the sensations of evaporation, a 
cooling influence, deprived of which life could 
hardly be maintained during the very hot weather 
in this country. A person perspires abundantly, 
but almost immediately it is evaporated so life 
is endurable. While we were resting a little deer 
came walking slowly along, perhaps it was com¬ 
ing to rest in the shade of our ledge of rocks. 
Evidently it was in no hurry and did not see us. 
It just idled along as if it had nothing to do 
and nowhere particularly to go. Manuel shot, 
so did I. Manuel said that I killed the deer, 
making a beautiful shot as it bounded in the 
air after he had missed it. The guides are very 
polite in Mexico—also they lie. Manuel was a 
splendid shot, and as for myself, I used to be 
a good shot, at least I thought so, and I have 
told long ago how the South American Indian 
found that the Devil had gotten into my rifle 
and he is there yet. I don’t think I could hit 
a deer sitting, and I have given up shooting at 
