328 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 26, 1911. 
on the divide just below the middle fork falls 
of the Teton. 
When we arrived at the camping grounds we 
first unpacked and unsaddled our horses, pitched 
our tent, and then went fishing. 1 caught my 
first fish that evening, and although it was not 
an extra large one, I was proud of it just the 
same. After supper was over we sat around the 
camp-fire and told stories until nearly n o'clock. 
Early on the following morning Aunt Della, 
Uncle Kenneth and I walked to the foot of the 
middle fork fahs, and Uncle Kennth made some 
pictures, the first of many taken on the trip. 
The sun had just risen when we arrived at the 
falls, and throwing its first golden beams over 
the foaming and tossing waters of the Teton as 
it tumbled over the rocks, made as pretty a pic¬ 
ture as I ever looked upon. The only thing we 
regretted was that the camera could not produce 
the beauty of the scene on paper. 
About 7 o'clock that morning we were ready 
to leave camp and continue our journey. One 
of our pack horses was a broncho mare, and 
while in the mountains we christened her "Con¬ 
trary Mary" on account of her persistent efforts 
to leave the trail and either climb a mountain 
side or descend to the valley below. Sometimes 
nearly an hour would be spent in getting her 
back on to the trail again. As she was being 
packed the morning we left the falls, she de¬ 
cided to interfere a little and bucked her pack 
off, scattering tin cups, plates and bedding ail 
around on the ground. But after some little 
difficulty her pack was readjusted and we re¬ 
sumed our journey. 
For many hours we followed the trail along 
the mountainside. The trail was barely wide 
enough for a horse to get a foothold. Far down 
below us flowed the silvery Teton, hastening 
now over boulders ten or fifteen feet high, again 
over fallen timber which had lodged in the river 
bed, or flowing smoothly on its winding journey 
to join the Missouri. 
A short time before noon we reached a spur 
of the main range of the Rocky Mountains be¬ 
tween the Teton and Sun River. On the very 
top of the range Uncle Kenneth photographed 
our outfit with “Old Baldy" in the background. 
I was riding along in the lead of the pack 
train, and about half way down Route Creek 
a six-point elk sprang up only a few feet from 
me. He stood and surveyed me for a few sec¬ 
onds, evidently surprised at seeing an unknown 
being in his mountain haunt. Then he tossed 
his antlers with an independent air and trotted 
off into the timber. When my eyes first rested 
on his antlers they looked so magnificent I could 
hardly look away, yet he would still have been 
beautiful without them. Every move he made 
was of wild, free independence, which added a 
great deal to his beauty. Had the thought ever 
occurred to us, we might easily have taken his 
picture. 
When we left home we hoped we might see 
elk, deer and a bear, yet away down in our 
hearts we thought the chances were few of get¬ 
ting a glimpse of any. When you think of being 
in a country containing thousands of square 
miles of green timber where the game se’dotn 
if ever sees anything or anyone belonging to 
civilization, it is natural to think you would 
hardly be lucky enough to see the game. As 
it is there, a person could stand three feet—that 
is, if by accident he got that close—from deer 
or elk and never know they were anywhere near, 
while the game could easily scent him and 
bound away. Maybe a crackling of a twig would 
be all we would hear. As it was we took our 
trip during the close season, and the game was 
not so much on the alert as when rifle balls are 
continually whizzing through the trees. The 
game is usually found in the mountain parks. 
In the Route Creek district we encountered 
some of the most beautiful scenery of the trip. 
Dense timber bordered each side of the trail 
and we could scarcely see the sunlight through 
the overhanging boughs. A few hours later 
Wrong Creek—and the name seems aptly ap¬ 
plied—was mistaken for Sun River, and after 
we had refreshed ourselves and our horses with 
the cooling waters, crossed the stream only to 
see a few rods distant the crystal waters of 
Sun River flowing gracefully in front of us, 
and in plain view two white-tailed deer paddled 
in the cooling waters eating the leaves of the 
overhanging boughs. We watched them for 
several minutes before they realized anyone was 
there, and when they did they gave us a sur¬ 
prised look which quickly changed to amaze¬ 
ment and then to fear. They bounded up the 
bank and off into the timber. The bank of the 
river that we were on was about a hundred and 
fifty feet above the water, and we had to look 
directly down on them. Uncle Kenneth tried to 
photograph them, but did not succeed. We were 
disappointed in not getting a picture, but were 
joyful to think we saw them as very few women 
ever get to see the wild game in the mountains'. 
I have often seen them in the parks, but I was 
not satisfied with that. It was in their own 
wild free haunts I wished to see them. 
We camped for dinner on Sun River, and 
after dinner Aunt Della and I rode across Sun 
River into Lewis and Clarke county and fol¬ 
lowed a trail into the dense timber for about 
two minutes to the Ralston cabin. The cabin 
had been built by trappers about five or six years 
before. The trees, which were cut down to 
build the cabin, left a small clearing in which 
the cabin stood. It was a very desolate 
place. For miles and miles stretched the green 
timber. We did not dismount and enter the 
cabin, being a little timid on account of a tale 
connected with it, but which for several reasons 
I will not relate. It was our curiosity which 
tempted us to ride over and see the cabin, as 
we had heard so much about it. 
When we rejoined the rest of the party we 
all continued our journey onward. The bad 
pjaces along the river made this part of the trip 
the most perilous. In some places we passed 
over points .300 feet above the river, where, if 
a horse should lose a foothold, both he and his 
rider would fall, and both would probably be 
mangled at the bottom. Yet we enjoyed this 
part of the trip because it was so dangerous. 
Then again the land would 'slope to the river, 
the tall timber protruding above the water to 
great heights. While meandering this stream 
we saw some of the tallest evergreens that grow 
in the Rocky Mountains. In this vicinity the 
blazed trail was lost, and in the attempt to re¬ 
gain it, the party emerged into the dry timber 
at a high elevation, and while proceeding down 
one of the exceedingly steep parts of the moun¬ 
tainside, one of the horses caught his pack on 
a tree and pulled it down. It fell on my shoul¬ 
der, but although it frightened me a great deal 
as well as the rest of the party, it caused no 
serious injury. 
That night we camped on the main divide of 
the Rockies in Lewis and Clarke county. Near 
the top of the divide we came across an elk lick 
with as much game sign as fifty head of cattle 
would make. The lick is where the sulphur 
water flows out of the ground in tiny springs. 
Boulders thirty feet high are splattered with 
mud caused by the great number of elk tramp¬ 
ing around in the mud trying to get the sulphur 
water. 
On the very top of the divide was a deep 
trench which had been dug by railroad surveyors. 
This is where the proposed Mondoc and Colum¬ 
bia Falls cut-off railroad will cross the moun¬ 
tains. I sincerely hope the railroad will never 
be put through there. If it is. it will certainly 
seem like civilization has taken something it 
should not have; namely, that which has always 
been the home of wiid game. Yet it is the way 
of the world—always wanting something more. 
Across the divide the fallen timber made jour¬ 
neying extremely perilous and nearly resulted 
in the loss of a pack horse. We followed Basin 
Creek, or Bowl Creek, its real name, down to 
the Basin Creek meadow's. This was in Flat- 
head county, and whee we intended to caijip 
for a couple of days. 
In the meadows we met a trapper, Chick 
Grimsley, whose tales of his experience in the 
mountains we found exceedingly interesting. 
Uncle Kenneth. Aunt Della and I walked four 
miles up a mountain side with him to a place 
where he had a bear trap set. A bear had been 
there, sprung the. trap, left a few tufts of hair 
on the log. but he was nowhere to be seen. We 
were greatly disappointed in not finding a bear 
in the trap, but started for camp with the pros¬ 
pects of going fishing. We were successful in 
catching all we could eat for supper. That m al 
certainly did taste good, and, dear reader, I think 
you will be of the same opinion when I describe 
it. The trout were fried crisp and brown, pota¬ 
toes were sliced in hot grease and fried over the 
camp-fire in a frying-pan—we did not mind a 
few ashes mixed in with them—then hot baking 
powder biscuits baked in a skillet and last some 
delicious syrup. You must remember we had 
had nothing to eat since noon and had ridden 
about thirty miles in the meantime beside walk¬ 
ing about eight miles. If you would not appre¬ 
ciate this meal now just wait until you are hun¬ 
gry. Last we sat down on the ground around 
the camp-fire enjoying our supper while a soft 
zephyr moved among the treetops, and the eve¬ 
ning air began to settle around. Far in the dis¬ 
tance a strange bird called to its mate. Then 
with the dying embers of the fire came our bed 
time. Our sleep was the sleep of the weary, yet 
contented. 
On the following morning we took our saddle 
horses and started for Big River. It was not 
many miles over to the river and we took only 
a lunch, intending to return to camp in the after¬ 
noon. The most difficult part of our journey lay 
between Big River and the Basin Creek meadows. 
Several times we lost the blazed trail and had 
great difficulty in finding it. At one place along 
a small stream one horse jumped into a mire, 
and lunging under a fallen tree, dragged his 
rider off, but fortunately he was not hurt. Other 
hazardous incidents were experienced. 
After reaching Big River we fished for a 
