one another as we smoked and conversed. At 
about ten o’clock, by common consent, the lights 
were extinguished. Some man would pull out 
his watch and announce “Ten o’clock! Time to 
go to bed.” Coat collars would be pulled up, 
and caps settled firmly down upon the heads, 
and the one nearest to it blew out the candle; 
this custom we followed each night of the jour¬ 
ney. Of course, our sleep was not very sound, 
on the contrary much broken; but we managed 
to get a good deal of it in the course of the 
twenty-four hours. This night it got very cold 
by the time we were ready for sleep. At the 
station near old Fort Halleck there was con¬ 
siderable snow, and all the way over the Medi¬ 
cine Bow Mountains it was the same, but there 
was not enough or it was so firmly packed that 
it did not seriously impede our progress, which 
was only at a walk. 
Whenever we stoped at a station, and in the 
mountains they were closer together than in the 
level country, we invariably got out and warmed 
ourselves thoroughly at the open fires always 
burning briskly at about the time a coach was 
expected. Wood was usually plentiful and con¬ 
veniently near at hand, but at one station on 
our journey farther on, they were burning coal, 
there being a supply within forty feet of the 
house, where a thick vein cropped out from 
the mountain side. A tunnel had been dug in 
for- a few feet, and a wheelbarrow furnished 
ample means of transportation; nothing could 
be more convenient, especially in the winter. 
Daylight saw us on the western slope of this 
range, and not long after, near Pass Creek, we 
came to our breakfast station, which was par¬ 
ticularly welcome. 
On all sides of us save one, were mountains 
covered with snow. Sheeps Head to the North, 
and to the east Elk Mountain, along whose 
massive shoulders we had come during the night, 
while southward, rounded rolling masses stretch¬ 
ed as far as one could see. Below us to the 
south the valley of the North Platte offered a 
very different view, with the river winding 
sometimes through the middle, sometimes to 
one side, outlined always by the dull grey 
masses of leafless cottonwood or the darker 
willow which fringed its banks, the plain itself 
ashen-hued from the prevailing sage brush, or 
yellow in places from the dried grass. Shortly 
after leaving our breakfast station, we were out 
of the snow, and the principal trouble encoun¬ 
tered, in the long and tortuous descent to the 
valley, was mud and water. 
The sun had come out from the enveloping 
clouds, and by the time we reached compara¬ 
tively level ground, the temperature was de¬ 
lightful. It was the 31st of March, but warm 
enough for a late April. The genial air seemed 
to have awakened and infused new life into 
every living thing. Bands of antelope were to be 
seen in every direction. They were there by the 
thousands, but seldom allowed us to get nearer 
than four or five hundred yards. As we ap¬ 
proached, off they would dash a little distance, 
and then stop to feed or play among themselves. 
As far as the eye could see up and down the 
valley, the bands could be distinguished; and 
when so far away as to be almost invisible, one 
could detect the glint of the sun upon their 
white rumps, as they scampered about, in their 
delight. 
FOREST AND STREAM 
We had seen a few antelope before this, and 
had eaten antelope venison at nearly every meal; 
but never before or since have I seen such 
numbers. 
The approach to a station in this region, and 
indeed most of the way to Salt Lake City, was 
indicated by fragments of skin and tufts of hair 
lodged by the wind in every clump of sage 
brush for a long distance from the station build¬ 
ings. 
The hide of an antelope is tender, and was 
not considered worth saving, as was that of a 
deer, and in dressing this game, the skin was 
torn from the carcass in any way which was 
easiest, and the pieces thrown aside, to be 
gnawed at and reduced to smaller fragments by 
coyotes and wolves. The surroundings of a sta¬ 
tion were thus made unsightly; but not so bad 
as they probably would be now in the reign of 
the omnipresent, and indestructible tin can 
which litters the neighborhood of such places. 
Our road did not take us to the river at the 
nearest point from where we entered the valley. 
We crossed it several miles further up where 
the driver considered the ford a safe one, the 
river being too high to allow of his crossing 
lower down where he could easily do so in the 
summer and autumn. 
At the old ford, which was a couple of miles 
beyond the first station in the valley, the smoke 
from a camp fire greeted us, and we found the 
place occupied by a couple of bearded prospec¬ 
tors from Colorado, with four ponies and a 
light wagon. They were bound for the Sweet¬ 
water River, a hundred miles or more to the 
northwest, where, as was reported, rich placer 
mines had been discovered. Finding the North 
Platte too full to be safe for their small horses, 
they had been camped upon its banks for two 
or three days, waiting for the water to go down, 
not knowing it could be forded farther up, or 
else not caring to retrace their steps. Their 
fire which had recently been replenished with 
sage brush, gave forth that peculiar pungent 
odor, which is so familiar to the traveler in the 
Rocky Mountain region, and beyond. 
The smell of burning sage brush always re¬ 
calls that lonely camp to my mind, and the pic¬ 
ture the two men made as we appeared, one 
holding over the fire a long handled frying pan 
containing some pork and venison, and the 
other watering the stock. Of course, we stopped 
and gave them news of all that had trans¬ 
pired since they left the Pike’s Peak mines a 
couple of weeks before. They were resolute 
looking men, and well armed with rifles and re¬ 
volvers; but it certainly seemed a hazardous 
trip for a party of two. They said they took 
turns watching at night, particularly on account 
of their horses. The distance they managed to 
travel in a day was not great, but they did not 
seem to worry at the present detention. 
A few miles above their camp, we entered 
the river where it was much wider than in mosc 
places, and of course shallow. Our driver who 
knew the ford, followed a devious course in 
crossing, with the result that not a drop of 
water entered the coach. 
The divergence to the ford, lengthened the 
journey between stations to more than double 
the usual number of miles, and when we reached 
303 
Sage Creek station it was late in the after¬ 
noon. 
From this place on to the western side of the 
Sierra Madre, over Bridgers Pass, the stage 
company had done considerable work in their 
efforts to keep the road open at all times, and 
we crossed many small streams where the banks 
had been cut down on each side to an easy 
grade to facilitate crossing, and in many places 
where the road would otherwise have been on 
a very sloping hillside, some cutting away had 
been done on the upper side, a thing we had 
not noticed before, although much needed but 
neglected, in the earlier stages of our journey. 
As night approached, the air grew very chilly, 
and soon we encountered occasional snow drifts 
in the hollows; and before dark there was snow 
all about. The day had been so warm that the 
wheels cut deep, making very hard pulling. 
Several times we all got out to lighten the load, 
and once or twice we had to take hold of the 
wheels, and help the coach forward over a par¬ 
ticularly hard place, though when the going im¬ 
proved for a space we would all get in again. 
The sky clouded over as if snow was immi¬ 
nent, it being far too cold for rain. When the 
snow came there was also a high wind. At 
about nine o’clock we came to a station on one 
of the many tributaries of Sage Creek, and we 
were glad enough to warm ourselves at the big 
open fire, while supper was being cooked, the 
station boss and driver meanwhile consulting 
as to the advisability of sending out another 
coach that night. They finally decided to do so, 
but make it a sled. All the mail, express mat¬ 
ter, and baggage was accordingly transferred 
and securely roped in place, in a long wagon 
box mounted on bob sleds, and after a hurried 
supper we passengers climbed on top of all, any¬ 
way we could, and again started. The driver 
pushed steadily on at a walk, and we were on 
or off as the exigencies of the road demanded. 
I say road though very little of it was dis¬ 
cernible. 
If we would ride we were satisfied; if we 
could not ride we plodded along behind the sled, 
stumbling through the snow, and sometimes fall¬ 
ing down. Of course, we all wore our trousers 
in our boots, western fashion, and by reason of 
breaking through the snow crust up above our 
knees and at times going down entirely, our feet 
were soon as wet as if we had forded the Platte 
on foot. Long after midnight we were glad¬ 
dened by the light from another station, and 
were soon gathered before the cheerful blazing 
logs in its common room. 
Here it was finally decided that in the present 
condition of the roads, and with the storm and 
darkness, it would be taking too much risk to go 
further that night. 
(To be continued.) 
ASQUAM FISH AND GAME ASSOCIATION. 
The first annual meeting of the Asquam Lake 
Fish and Game Association was held at Holder- 
ness. Under Burt N. Bridgman, who was elected 
president of the organization, steps were taken 
to preserve and promote sports upon and about 
the lakes. Hon. Frank J. Beal of Plymouth, 
the state fish and game commissioner, addressed 
the meeting and was followed by Dr. George 
W. Field, chairman of the fish and game com¬ 
mission of Massachusetts. 
