(2 THE A U;DU BO-N OB Ulta Esai 
ground around the fire and on each reposed a riding boot. Everyone was 
holding up socks, riding breeches, ponchos, blankets, etc. If it started to 
rain we got under the trees, but there we froze. The fire with the rain 
was preferable; unfortunately we could not build the fire under the trees. 
In spite of all this discomfort I heard no grumbling. I suppose this was 
nothing to the war veterans, and the rest of us just went along with them. 
Toward the end of the trip we had a “stunt night” and Bill read some 
advice to the Forestry Association. Among other things he recommended 
that in their announcement pamphlet they guarantee “air conditioning and 
running water in every tent.” 
After two nights at Copper Lake we left on a clear morning for the 
ghost town of Gothic, mentioned above, and for Schofield Basin. It was 
a glorious ride, one of the loveliest of the entire trip. We rode high above 
a green valley, through lush vegetation. The horses were in ecstacy, grab- 
bing mouthfuls of wild celery, thistles and grass as they trotted along. 
My Billy would stop to eat no matter what I could do and then, like a 
naughty child, would almost run to catch up with the rest. We rode into 
another hornets’ nest. This time it was Enid’s horse that was stung and 
he began to rear and prance. Tommie, ever on the alert, saw him and 
called to Enid to let him run. But Enid was a little deaf and did not 
understand. She tried to hold the horse in and to brush off the hornets. 
The result was she was thrown. Fortunately she was not hurt, but it 
gave us a bad scare. That rather marred an otherwise perfect day. But 
there was worse to come. 
When we reached camp, part of the pack train was not in. Of course, 
our baggage was among that which had not arrived. We waited and 
waited. It grew dark. No supper was served. Tommie confessed the next 
day that she was petrified. She had heard of baggage scattered all along 
the road from the last camping place or in the stream, but nothing like 
that had ever happened to her. Finally one wrangler rode in and we saw 
him fall from his horse. The men rushed up and surrounded him. We 
heard him yelling and sobbing. Bob called “Doc! Doc!” Our blood ran 
cold. Then one of the men came back and reported that the fellow was 
drunk. He mounted his horse again and rode off, still yelling and weeping. 
But there had been a real accident. Two other wranglers had also gotten 
drunk and one of them, a lad of sixteen, had fallen off his horse and rolled 
down twenty feet into a gulley. The other, somewhat under the influence 
of drink but not so entirely gone, had recovered the horse which had 
wandered away and had helped the lad back on it. But he was a new 
wrangler and did not know the way into camp. Bob and Doe soon found 
them and brought them in. There were no broken bones, but the lad was 
thoroughly bruised and was very lame for several days. The matter was 
rather hushed up and I never learned when or how the pack animals 
arrived. 
We lay over for another day of rest at Schofield Basin. Half-a-dozen 
members of the party climbed one of the mountains for the experience and 
for the view. When Newt came back exhausted, he said that he had made 
