FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 27, 1909. 
O 
singing at the top of his voice. He must have 
been a very bold bird to penetrate the forest 
waste to bring us a message from the great 
world beyond the snow line. Ah, how we drank 
in that music. No tone creation of a master 
musician was ever dwelt on with greater rap¬ 
ture than the simple carol of this first avian 
visitor. He was far from his kindred, but he 
had found human companionship. What in¬ 
stinct do you suppose led him to that cabin in 
the wilderness? Or did he happen to spy it 
in passing and pause long enough to liven our 
solitude with his merry voice? Who can say? 
He eyed us when we appeared to greet him, as 
unafraid as his mates of the old orchard tree 
back on the farm. For several days he tarried 
about the cabin, singing on bright days, but 
when the snow flurries filled the air, as they 
often did. he would sit disconsolately upon the 
tree and chirp in a lonely sort of manner. We 
endeavored to coax him into the shed with 
tempting morsels of food, but he chose the 
greater freedom of the fir tree. One morning 
we missed him. Mayhap he had gone to cheer 
some other lonely trapper in that wide desert of 
snow. 
We learned the use of snowshoes that winter. 
It is a difficult feat at first. Clumsy webbed con¬ 
trivances like the paw of some immense bear 
are strapped upon one’s feet, and one is ex¬ 
pected to walk. At times the shoes insist upon 
overriding each other and the result is a fall. 
The fall is not so bad, for the snow is soft, but 
the getting up again is somewhat of'a task un¬ 
less there be someone to assist. After a time, 
though, T got so that I could strap on the shoes 
and trudge off across the waste 6f snow as 
easily as though walking on bare ground. In 
this manner we made many ■ side trips that 
winter. 
There was a swift narrow river three miles 
from the cabin that did not freeze over at all. 
Thither we used to go whenever we grew hun¬ 
gry for a sight of open water. In a shallow 
arm of the river lived a family of beavers, their 
home beneath the shelving bank.. We were 
never able to catch sight of them, for they were 
very wary. Nor did we try to capture them, for 
the law forbade it. At each visit though, we 
could see where they had been playing upon the 
ice. Their home must have been a veritable 
fortress. The shallow lagoon was solid ice out 
to the swift water of the river, where it ended 
abruptly. The holes in the bank were made 
below the surface of the water, then inclined 
upward. Thus, protected from all enemies, they 
spent the winter. 
There was another family that lived near the 
beavers, and these we saw at various times. 
Indeed, my husband tried in vain to capture 
them. One day when we were prospecting, we 
saw a long brown body suddenly slip into the 
river and disappear from sight. Pausing, we 
waited for him to reappear, but he never did. 
Upon a steep bank of the river we found a 
narrow channel worn smooth down the hill into 
the v;ater. It was an otter slide and we had 
surprised the owner at his play. Returning 
several days later, we crept up to a point where 
we might overlook the bank and the slide. They 
were there, three of them, disporting themselves 
in the merriest otter fashion. They were slid¬ 
ing down the smooth snow into the water very 
much as boys slide down hill on their hand 
sleds. Over and over they did this, keeping up 
a continuous circle so rapidly that one cohld 
hardly keep trace of each individual. Some 
untoward movement upon our part or a waft 
of tainted air apprised them of the vicinity of 
man, and they were gone like a flash. We set 
several traps about the slide, but were never 
able to catch one of them. Finally, becoming 
weary of trying to trap one, my husband shot 
one with his rifle. Afterward we were sorry 
that he did so, for the wounded creature sought 
its natural element and sank from sight. No 
doubt it crept away somewhere and died, for 
we never found it. The other two abandoned 
their slide after that and we never saw them 
again. 
There are many things that I should like to 
tell of that would drag this narrative out to 
great length, and I must bring it to a close. We 
were in the heart of the Bitter Roots for five 
months without the sight of a human form. At 
last the snow was all melted from the ridges 
and ,.uplands, only remaining in the deeper 
canons and upon the crests of the higher moun¬ 
tains. Every creek was a raging river and 
every river a flood. The air was alive day and 
night with northbound waterfowl. The trees 
were filled with home hunting songsters, and the 
partridge drummed from his trysting log. The 
squirrels were out in force and the rabbits, 
turned gray again, were less timid. One day 
when we were busy about the cabin we heard 
a shout. Running to the door we saw Mr. 
Roberts, a pack on his back, coming up the 
path followed by'his collie dog, but without the 
horses. He was very weary, but had a cheer¬ 
ful smile and called to us, “Hello, babes in the 
woods! How are you faring?’’ 
How glad we were to see him, and how happy 
to get the bundle of letters he brought. Many 
changes had taken place during our sojourn, 
only inklings of which we learned, for Mr. 
Roberts himself lived nearly at the extreme 
limit of settlement and not all the world's hap¬ 
penings penetrated even there. He had brought 
the horses as far as the Lochsa meadows, but 
could not bring them nearer, for the streams 
were so swollen that it was impossible to ford 
them. I asked after my little mare and was 
overjoyed to learn that she was destined to 
carry me back to civilization. We sat far into 
the night listening to his talk of the outside 
world and in turn telling him of the things 
that had happened to us. We displayed our 
stock of furs and heard him say that many a 
trapper with years of experience might have 
fared worse; Some of our marten were of the 
rare variety that are so much sought after by 
the wealthy. 
Next morning we made preparations to leave 
the little cabin. The furs were packed in bales 
and hung from the rafters by ropes of wire 
to prevent their being destroyed by rats until 
such time as Mr. Roberts could bring the horses 
to fetch them. Our personal belongings were 
served in a like manner. We were not afraid 
to leave everything in the cabin, for if, per¬ 
chance, anyone should pass that way he would 
not molest anything, that being the rule of the 
woods. It was two days’ tramp to where the 
horses were, so we bade adieu to the little cabin 
and set out with faces turned to the west. That 
night we camped near the Lochsa, and Mr. 
Roberts built a raft for us to cross upon. This 
is a method of crossing mountain streams 
learned from the Indians. The raft is made 
to swing across the stream by means, of a rope 
secured to a tree upon the side from which you 
start. How the current does it is beyond my 
knowledge of physics, but it is a fact that with¬ 
in a minute of the time when we boarded the 
raft we found ourselves upon the opposite side 
and Mr. Roberts pulling in the rope. It will 
be understood that the current was narrow and 
very swift. The climb up out of the deep canon 
was a very tiresome one, even for seasoned 
mountaineers as we then considered ourselves. 
Late on the second day, when we approached 
the level open meadows where the horses were, 
I felt very much relieved that the journey was 
nearly done, for I did not consider the balance 
of the trip on horseback as being of much im¬ 
portance. 
Fawn, the little mare, knew me and came 
trotting up for her gift of sugar. There was 
a cabin upon the meadow and in it we spent 
the night. The next morning we started on the 
long journey back to civilization and home. The 
trip was uneventful, save that in crossing a 
marshy meadow one of the horses mired and 
we spent nearly half a day getting him out. It 
was necessary to cut small trees, carry them 
nearly half a mile and build a sort of corduroy 
for the horse to walk upon until he reached 
solid ground. After the poles were all laid, 
Mr. Roberts hitched a rope to the horse and 
took a turn of the opposite end about his saddle 
horn, his own horse being on good footing. The 
mired horse seemed to know what was expected, 
for as soon as Mr. Roberts gave the word to 
his riding horse to go, the horse in the mud 
began to make efforts to free himself. After 
a great deal of floundering and pulling, the poor 
animal managed to get his front feet upon the 
poles and then slowly drew himself up. 
As we rode up near their house the German 
woman and her kinder were standing at the 
front gate to greet us. We tarried for a few 
minutes and talked with her while we drank a 
glass of milk. The next night we passed at 
Mr. Roberts’ home, and the following day found 
us speeding down the broad river on the train. 
Dear friends were there to welcome us when 
we reached home. It was good to see the cheery 
faces and hear the hearty expressions of good 
will as they grasped our hands. More pleasing 
to me than all else was to hear them tell my 
husband that he was looking much better. 
In due time Mr. Roberts shipped us the furs 
that had been left in the cabin, and all of them, 
save a few that we kept as remembrances of 
the winter, were sent to market. 
It is now some years since we spent our win¬ 
ter in the heart of the Bitter Roots, and I often 
feel that I should like to return to the little 
cabin where we spent those happy months and 
live over again, in retrospect, some of the events 
of that time. 
[Conclusion.] 
REDUCE THE CARES 
of housekeeping. One decidedly practical way 
is to use Borden’s Peerless Brand Evaporated 
Milk in all cooking where milk or cream is 
required. Results will be more satisfactory 
than with most “fresh” milk. The conven¬ 
ience and economy will please you. Dilute 
Peerless Milk with water to any desired rich¬ 
ness.— Adv. 
