Oct. 22, 1910.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
649 
‘•The old trail branches off from th.e river right 
here somewhere. Unless we strike it we can 
never get out of this cedar swamp. Where it 
branched off there was a cedar tree blazed. I 
have not been here since I was a small boy, but 
this must be the tree.” 
With his axe he cut a section out of the log 
and rolled it over. Upon the under side was the 
blaze. The question is, how did he know that 
it was that particular tree, and not one of a 
hundred others that lay upon the 
ground? Does the savage possess 
some sixth sense not generally 
accorded to mortals, who claim 
only five? To persons familiar 
with Indians it seems so. 
We rambled about in the re¬ 
cesses of the towering mountains 
for several days before we reach¬ 
ed the Selway branch of the 
Kooskia. 
It was growing late autumn in 
the higher hills, though still sum¬ 
mer on the lower water. We 
were in snow now for much of 
the time during the day, but gen¬ 
erally sought lower altitudes for 
our night’s camp. One afternoon, 
while crossing an open pine ridge, 
we struck an old trail that, though 
unused for years,' was still plain 
because there was but little tim¬ 
ber and no underbrush. A trail 
leading down a sloping ridge gen-, 
erally means grass and water 
within a few miles, so Charley 
promptly turned into it. As ex¬ 
pected, the path led us down up¬ 
on a small meadow through 
which a brook wandered. It was 
nearing dark when we arrived 
there, and was spitting snow. 
While Charley busied himself 
with the camp and the horses, I 
took the bucket and went to the 
creek for water. I followed the 
trail out across the meadow. 
Where it crossed the creek was 
an old pole bridge. The logs 
were moss covered and rotten, 
the stringers had fallen down and 
the whole structure was a wreck. 
I procured the water, and upon 
my return to camp told mv guide 
of the find. He was at a loss to 
account for it, as we had passed 
no signs of human occupancy of 
the country since we left Jerry 
Johnson’s. 
Six inches of snow fell that 
night, and in the morning Charley 
cast his weather eye round the 
horizon at the overcast gloomy 
sky and opined that unless we de¬ 
sired to subsist on horse meat until a rescue 
party came and pulled us out, we had better 
hasten. I had never acquired an appetite for 
horse meat and agreed. 
We crossed the stream, and in a few yards 
came to the ruins of a hayshed and found the 
bones of two horses scattered about. Beyond 
the shed, standing in the shelter of the pines on 
the edge of the meadow, was a neat cabin built 
from peeled cedar logs, covered with split cedar 
boards. The whole structure was in a good 
state of repair, but with the lonely air of a 
house that is unoccupied. In the front yard lay 
a heap of rotting logs that had been for fire 
wood; in one of them was sticking a rusty axe. 
The door was secured from the inside. The 
stick-and-mud chimney had fallen down, and 
through it we effected an entrance. It was dark 
in there, so I lighted a match. A glance re¬ 
vealed the ordinary interior of a trapper’s cabin. 
AN OCTOBER AFTERNOON ON WEEQUAHIC LAKE. 
From a photograph by Perry D. Frazer. 
Upon the earthen floor were scattered the cook¬ 
ing utensils, traps, remnants of saddles, picks, a 
shovel, gold pan and other things. Upon a rude 
bunk in one corner lay the skeleton of a tall old 
man. At first the sight was just a little startling. 
The remnant of humanity lay as though he had 
just fallen asleep. All of the bedding, save some 
shreds, had been carried away by the pack rats. 
We searched the cabin for some scrap of paper 
that might tell us who he was and from whence 
he came, but not a thing could we find. The in¬ 
dustrious rats had made clean work of all links 
that might have bound him to civilization, if 
there were any. 
I suppose it matters but little where the Mes¬ 
senger calls for 11s, whether in the gilded halls 
of wealth or in a trapper’s cabin in the eternal 
hills, yet for myself I believe that I should not 
choose to receive the call in the heart of the 
Bitter Roots hundreds of miles from my fellows. 
I have since made many inquiries 
regarding this man, but have been 
unable to trace him. 
The incident is interesting oidy 
in that it serves to indicate how 
actually wild the Country is. That 
man had been dead, according to 
my calculation, at least twenty 
years, and we were the first per¬ 
sons that had visited the scene. 
One day more brought us to 
the vicinity of the Crags beyond 
which a rather good trail runs 
over to Moose Creek, one of the 
tributaries of the Selway. It took 
two hard days’ climbing to skirt 
the foothills of the Crags in order 
to reach this trail. At no time 
during those two days were we 
out of sight of big game. The 
deer were beginning their migra¬ 
tion toward the lower altitudes, 
and they crossed our trail in 
bands. Elk, too, were moving, 
and many times a day we could 
see them. On the mountain sides 
goats and sheep were visible, 
though one had to catch the 
goats moving in order to see 
them against the snow. The 
sheep, being more brown, were 
plainly visible as they stood upon 
some bold point watching us. It 
would wot only have been un¬ 
sportsmanlike, but foolish to 
shoot one. The time had arrived 
for us to make our escape from 
the country, .and to burden our 
already weary animals with addi¬ 
tional packs would have been 
showing very poor judgment. Of 
course we killed such meat as we 
needed for our subsistence. 
Four days took us to Moose 
Creek on the Lochsaw, where we 
found a band of Indians encamp¬ 
ed, waiting for the deer to come 
down. They did not have long 
to wait, for on the morning after 
we arrived one of the men came 
in and informed the women that 
he had killed nine in a box canoi 
up the creek, and to take the 
horses and bring them in. The 
women received the news with great glee. They 
saddled up the pack horses and trailed off after 
the game, chattering like a flock of magpies. 
There was a great feast in camp that night. 
Sixteen miles down the Selway from Moose 
Creek, -the Selway Creek comes in. Below this 
the river is navigable for small boats and rafts. 
Charley proposed that we get one of the Indians 
to accompany us to this point where we would 
construct a raft and finish our journey by water. 
