FOREST AND STREAM. 
249 
Feb. 13, 1909.] 
how distinctly sounds come to one, even a great 
distance. 
At the summit of the canon rises a great 
spring. Its waters bubble up out of the solid 
rock and fill a long trough hewn from a section 
of an immense yellow pine. The tired horses 
hastened to this rustic fountain and buried their 
noses deep in the cool water. Their thirst 
slaked, they strayed to the grass, for the in¬ 
telligent animals seemed to divine that their 
master would pause here for a rest. 
We sat beneath the shade of a hawthorn and 
looked back at the canon up which we had just 
come. The road resembled a gigantic serpent 
winding its sinuous length down the hill. Above 
our heads a magpie family kept up a constant 
chatter. The young were nearly as large as 
their parents, but their movements were ex¬ 
tremely awkward, for they had not as yet tails 
long enough to enable them to balance properly. 
There is no more saucy bird than the magpie. 
These black-and-white rascals would hop down 
within a few feet of where we sat, and turning 
their heads on one side, 
peer at us with the 
sharpest of black bead¬ 
like eyes. A long crest¬ 
ed jay came for a drink, 
and finding us there, 
scolded us roundly for 
our intrusion. The jay 
family are never lack¬ 
ing in words to express 
their meaning. Their 
vocabulary of invective 
seems never to be ex¬ 
hausted. This bird has 
a curious habit that I 
have often noticed. It 
will alight upon the 
lowest limb of a tree, 
then mount limb by limb 
until it has reached the 
topmost bough. When 
this is -reached it will 
sail down to another tree 
and repeat the performance. It is as though the 
bird were climbing stairs for its own amusement. 
Our road now wound through a dense forest 
of pine and larch that will some day, when 
sawn into timber, furnish houses for a nation. 
At that time it was untouched by the woodman’s 
axe. The great yellow trunks crowded the road 
on either side untif it did not need a great deal 
of imagination for us to believe ourselves 
traversing the aisles of some ancient Druidic 
cathedral. Just before sunset we came to a 
broad meadow covered with grass. A tiny cabin 
stood upon the further side, with several chil¬ 
dren playing about the door. This, so our guide 
told us, was to be our stopping place for the 
night if we so desired. While the good lady 
of the house was glad to make us welcome, we 
decided that, as we were going to rough it, we 
had as well make the start. In a very few 
minutes Mr. Roberts had the packs off, and the 
horses were rolling and kicking up their heels 
in the grass. It was he, too. who built the fire 
and cooked the evening meal, to which we did 
shameless justice. It was astonishing what an 
appetite one little day in the open had given us. 
If our desire for food increased proportionately 
as we progressed, I shuddered to contemplate 
the task of cooking. 
After supper Mr. Roberts took me over to a 
spring that flowed out of the soil, and formed 
a considerable stream. Fie informed me that 
it was the spring where Lewis and Clarke had 
camped over a hundred years ago, and that here 
they met and treated with the savages. The 
meadow is called Weippe, an Indian name, and 
here the early explorers first met the Nez Perce 
Indians and formed a friendship that lasted 
over fifty years. I could almost translate my¬ 
self back one hundred years, for these forests— 
as they have the appearance of never having 
been young—never seem to grow old. I leaned 
against a giant pine and fancied that perhaps 
one of the early explorers might have leaned 
against it as I was doing. I could almost fancy 
the old pine telling me the story of the early 
pioneers, who came in the dawn of the century 
to blaze a trail for future generations to follow. 
In another, but less important matter, this 
meadow is historical. It was here that Joseph and 
his people came in July, 1877, after having de¬ 
feated the regulars at Clearwater, to meet Look¬ 
GATHERING FOR .-V FE.AST. 
From a photograph by Joseph Smith. 
ing Glass, one of Joseph's firm friends and allies, 
who had escaped from the troops at an earlier 
date, and had chosen this spot as a rendezvous. 
Mr. Roberts pointed out the spot where the In¬ 
dians were camped, and where the great tent 
was pitched for the war dance that took place 
before the Indians set out on their long journey 
across the Lo Lo trail. 
No words of mine can adequately describe the 
rapture of arising that first morning. We slept 
that night beneath the stars, upon a couch of 
dried grass, covered with the heavy woolen 
blankets that were to do duty all winter. Even 
though it be midsummer, the night air in these 
mountains is chill. As soon as the sun sinks 
behind the western hills the night cold comes 
on. This night the frost came and covered all 
the meadow. When we arose a heavy mist ob¬ 
scured the landscape and the sun was not yet 
risen. Across the meadow the trees stood half 
trunk deep in the fleecy mass, as though they 
were growing from a snow bank. A slight 
breeze heralded the coming sun and scattered 
the mists. Then came the sun and touched the 
frost crystals with his genial heat until they 
turned to water and trickled down the blades 
of grass as though abashed at being discovered. 
The horses were all grazing mid-side deep in 
the rank grass. When they saw Mr. Roberts 
about the camp-fire they all lifted their heads 
and gave him a whinney of pleasure and good 
morning. 
Our guide allowed me to assist him in prepar¬ 
ing the breakfast, though I fancy my assistance 
might have been easily dispensed with. He sagely 
remarked that if I was going to rough it, I 
might as well begin learning now as any time. 
It was astonishing how appetizing a meal he 
prepared with the very fewest conveniences. For 
instance, he made bread in the sack of flour 
without using a bread pan. He hollowed out a 
cavity in the flour, poured in water, added salt 
and baking powder in proper quantities, then 
proceeded to mix the dough. I watched him 
many times, but never succeeded in acquiring the 
knack. I did succeed, however, in plastering my¬ 
self with half-mixed dough. He did another 
thing in his cooking that amused me very much. 
To prevent the coffee boiling over he placed a 
small green willow stick across the open top 
of the pot. The lesson in physics soon followed. 
The coffee bubbled and 
then rushed up to the 
top of the pot as though 
it was going to boil over 
the sides and extinguish 
the fire, but as soon as 
it touched the willow it 
subsided like some sen¬ 
tient thing. I learned 
from this man many 
valuable things- about 
life in the open—things 
that stood me in good 
stead in the life we led 
that winter. 
Our second day mark¬ 
ed the extreme limit of 
civilization. A hardy 
German and his wife 
had elected to settle 
upon a vast mountain 
meadow, and there rear 
their brood far from 
the city and its glare. We were traveling the 
old Lo Lo trail, which ran right past their cabin 
door. The good frau and her numerous off¬ 
spring were crowded in the little front yard 
to watch us pass. The news of our coming had 
been heralded in advance, and they were curious 
to see a woman who intended braving the dan¬ 
gers of the mountains just to be with her hus¬ 
band. Such a thing was unheard of. I could 
see but little difference between her life and the 
one I had chosen. She was as completely re¬ 
moved from all society of her sex as though 
she had been one hundred miles further back 
in the hills whither I was going. We halted 
at the house for a short time and drank a glass 
of buttermilk. I found the housewife an intelli¬ 
gent type of better class German. Before her 
marriage she had been a cook in the city, but 
preferred the free life of the hills to the drud¬ 
gery of a kitchen. In this I heartily agreed with 
her. 
We now practically entered upon our journey 
proper. That is, we left behind us the last 
vestige of civilization. The trail crossed the 
broad meadow and we climbed the steep hill 
beyond into ‘the dense timber. Then it wound 
up a long ridge, "SO narrow that one might look 
down into the waters of the Lo Lo on one side 
