Nov. 25, 1911.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
773 
I shot him just as he began to get up from his 
rock, at 1:15 p. m. We left on the down trip 
at 3 p. m., and against Jack’s protest, I in¬ 
sisted upon stopping at the trout stream to 
wash every particle of blood out of the hair; 
arriving finally at the horses about 4:30, dead 
tired, but well repaid by having witnessed as 
fine a piece of stalking upon Jack’s part as one 
could wish to see. This goat was somewhat 
smaller than my big billy, and weighed about 
170 pounds. Jack said he was a four-year-old. 
Napoleon got a peculiar big grouse to-day 
with my .22 rifle. Weight three pounds; slaty 
dark on the back; lighter slate breast; white 
under the wings; whitish throat; yellow 
crescents three-quarters of an inch in length 
over each eye; white barred under feathers of 
tail. This does not check up closely with any 
grouse description I can find in the books, and 
is distinctly unlike the common blue grouse, of 
which we have seen a great many hereabout, 
and which I have hunted for twenty-five years. 
greatly different from most of the Passama- 
quoddys and other tribes in the low country 
down East. The Lilooets of British Columbia, 
on the other hand, like the Yaquis in Mexico, 
living upon horseback, are wiry and tough, good 
trailers and hard workers. 
The amount of work which old man Na¬ 
poleon, for example, can negotiate is truly 
marvelous. Weighing about 120 pounds, 56 
years of age, dried up and wrinkled like a little 
old monkey, he is the first man out before day¬ 
light and the last one into his blankets after 
dark. When he is not trailing horses, roping 
up packs, baking bread or washing dishes he is 
chopping out logs of wood in a constantly widen¬ 
ing woodless circle around the camp; getting 
each log, of perhaps 300 pounds weight, care¬ 
fully pried up until he can get it upon his 
shoulders; then with painful slowness slipping 
along with it up the hill to camp, and dodging 
from under it to let it fall upon the pile, ready 
to keep us thawed out during the cold night. 
out to congratulate us and invite us in to sup¬ 
per. It seemed really very strange and awk¬ 
ward to sit on a chair drawn up to a table and 
eat from dishes again. Liza’s dinner was good, 
and she is a wonder anyway, for she can catch 
trout, spear salmon, shoot her own deer, tan 
buckskins, make first rate wild blackberry jam 
and huckleberry pies, and is in fact a general 
all-round athlete. 
Sept. 28.—This morning an old prospector 
came in from across Bridge River, bringing 
the news of the discovery of the North Pole 
and the Peary-Cook controversy; also inform¬ 
ing 11s of Mr. Harriman’s death. 
Doctor pronounced the breakfast “Hiue 
skookum muckamuck hyas kloslie” to Liza’s 
delight. “Cumtux Chinook wawa?” she in¬ 
quired. “Halo,” replied Doctor, “Cumtux tenas 
Chinook wawa; cumtux hyas Boston wawa.” 
Whereat she was greatly amused, and chuckled 
so gleefully that her funny little Indian dog 
frisked around the kitchen until he knocked over 
NAPOLEON TAKING AN OBSERVATION. 
THE PACKTRAIN IN A SNOWSTORM. 
It is of course not a sooty grouse, of which 
there are also a great many in these hills, and I 
cannot find out what it is, but the bird doctors 
tell me that the grouse are so much mixed up 
as occasionally to puzzle even the specialists. 
We rather upset old Napoleon’s theories to¬ 
day, for we killed a goat in spite of the fact 
that the sky was clear the whole day long. 
Upon our first day’s goat hunt Napoleon had 
said to Doctor, after luncheon at the camp, 
when it began to snow: “I'm tink the boys 
is get’m goat to-day. Some old Siwasli man is 
say always snow when goat spirit flies and 
shakes out wool. I’m not know myself.” Sure 
enough, we came into camp that evening with a 
goat, and so upon the following day again the 
old man predicted goat when the snow fell; but 
to-day he assured Doctor there would be noth¬ 
ing doing in the goat line, and was jollied 
up a good deal when we rode in as before 
with the white wooly skin rolled up behind the 
saddle. 
Monday, Sept. 27.—The energy of these 
horseback Indians is in extraordinary con¬ 
trast with' the slothfulness of the canoe In¬ 
dians. The Flatheads and other tribes along 
Puget Sound and the Columbia River are lazy; 
obtaining without any great exertion an ex¬ 
istence by fishing; addicted to liquor, and gen¬ 
erally a degenerate race; in these respects not 
Having observed him carrying these logs, I 
tried my best to get one of them upon my own 
shoulder, but found I could not do it, although 
I had thirty pounds the advantage of the old 
man in weight and fifteen years the better of 
him in age. 
Jack James, our head man, is 32 years of age, 
weighing 150 pounds in his clothes; a strong, 
straight-limbed young Indian, very willing and 
cheerful; communicative around camp, but 
while hunting taciturn to a degree, slipping 
along hour after hour, soft footed as a panther 
and silent as a ghost. 
Jack’s moccasins are all in shreds from the 
last three days’ goat hunting. My own hunting 
shoes have gone to the bad, and Napoleon has 
stitched on to them a pair of buckskin soles. 
The weather is now so threatening and snow 
squalls so frequent that we have decided to 
turn southward. We have in three days seen 
nineteen goats, of which four were billies. To¬ 
day we passed again through Long Climb Val¬ 
ley, the wet snow turning it into a long slide 
on the down grade; down from the stunted 
pines into the quaking aspens and down through 
the big timber to the berries again, and the 
birches and willows, to camp in the rain at 
Bridge River, near Grant White’s ranch. 
Seeing 11s come down the trail with sheep and 
goat horns tied on top of the packs. Liza came 
a pail of soft soap which she had lately brewed, 
and was thrown out in disgrace. 
I found that Liza had four or five splendid 
big smoke-tanned buckskins, which she was go¬ 
ing to make into hunting shirts. I tried to get 
a buckskin from her, but she would not sell me 
one. Finally I showed her the tiny pictures of 
my wife and children which I carried in a little 
waterproof silk case in my hunting shirt pocket. 
“Dat your squaw?” asked Liza. “Sure,” “And 
your papooses?” “Ah, ha, Liza.” “How many 
you got?” “Four, Liza.” “Your squaw no 
can make it buckskin?” “Not good smoke- 
tanned ones like this, Liza.” “Well, all right, 
I’m sell it,” she said, and for five dollars I got 
from her the biggest and finest kind of a smoke- 
tanned mule deer stag skin. 
To-day we decided to take a short cut across 
a spur of the range over toward Ground Hog 
Mountain, or, as Doctor, who is a wag, per¬ 
sists in calling it, “Sausage Mountain.” We 
climbed up, up all day, out of the rain world 
into the snow world again, up on to the world’s 
white rooftree once more, Jack in the lead, 
chopping through deadfalls every mow and then 
as we descended through an occasional broken 
forest. 
Sept. 29.-—It rained all night and is still 
raining. We must therefore abandon the idea 
of remaining here for two or three days to 
