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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:08:07 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:08:07 -0700 |
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diff --git a/37485-h/37485-h.htm b/37485-h/37485-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c926c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/37485-h/37485-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14301 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta content="Boy Scouts in Glacier Park" name="DC.Title"/> + <meta content="Walter P. Eaton" name="DC.Creator"/> + <meta content="en" name="DC.Language"/> + <meta content="1918" name="DC.Created"/> + <meta name="generator" content="ppgen (1.23) generated Sep 19, 2011 06:20 PM" /> + <title>Boy Scouts in Glacier Park</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; + font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h2 {text-align:left; font-weight:normal; + font-size:1.2em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; + font-size:0.9em; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1em;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .larger {font-size:larger;} + .smaller {font-size:smaller;} + table.c {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + div.center p {margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;} + div.center>:first-child {margin: .5em auto 0 auto;text-align:center;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Boy Scouts in Glacier Park, by Walter Prichard Eaton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Boy Scouts in Glacier Park + The Adventures of Two Young Easterners in the Heart of the High Rockies + +Author: Walter Prichard Eaton + +Illustrator: Fred H. Kiser + +Release Date: September 20, 2011 [EBook #37485] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOY SCOUTS IN GLACIER PARK *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from images made available by the HathiTrust +Digital Library.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>Boy Scouts in Glacier Park</h1> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>Books by</p> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>WALTER P. EATON</span></p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary='centered block'><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><b>The Boy Scouts of Berkshire</b>—A story</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>of how the Chipmunk Patrol was started,</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>what they did and how they did it.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><em>Colored frontispiece.</em> 313 <em>pages</em>.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><b>Boy Scouts in the Dismal Swamp</b>—A</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>story of Boy Scouting in the Dismal Swamp.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><em>Colored frontispiece.</em> 304 <em>pages</em>.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><b>Boy Scouts in the White Mountains</b>—A</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>story of a hike over the Franconia and</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Presidential Ranges.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><em>Colored frontispiece.</em> 308 <em>pages</em>.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><b>Boy Scouts of the Wildcat Patrol.</b>—A Story of Boy Scouting.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><em>Colored frontispiece.</em> 315 <em>pages</em>.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><b>Peanut—Cub Reporter</b>—A Boy Scout’s</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>life and adventures on a newspaper.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><em>Colored frontispiece.</em> 320 <em>pages</em>.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><b>Boy Scouts in Glacier Park</b></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>336 <em>pages</em>.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><em>Cloth bound. Price</em>, $1.75 <em>net each</em></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" alt="The Great Continental Divide and the Game Trail Along the Top" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>The Great Continental Divide and the Game Trail Along the Top</span> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>Boy Scouts in Glacier Park</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p>The Adventures of Two Young Easterners</p> +<p>in the Heart of the High Rockies</p> +<p> </p> +<p>By</p> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>WALTER PRICHARD EATON</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><em>Illustrated with Photographs by</em></p> +<p>FRED H. KISER</p> +<p> </p> +<p>W. A. WILDE COMPANY</p> +<p>BOSTON CHICAGO</p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><em>Copyrighted, 1918</em>,</p> +<p>BY W. A. WILDE COMPANY</p> +<p><em>All rights reserved</em></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>BOY SCOUTS IN GLACIER PARK</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>To</p> +<p>FRED H. KISER</p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary='centered block'><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><i>who photographs mountains so well</i></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><i>because he loves them so much</i></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><i>Best of companions on the high trails</i></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><i>and around the evening camp-fire</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>FOREWORD</span></p> +</div> +<p> +Glacier Park is one of the newest, as well as one +of the most beautiful, of our National Parks. It is +peculiarly fitted to be a summer playground, both +for men and women who prefer to travel on horseback +and “rough it” by putting up at a hotel at +night, and for the true mountain lovers, who delight +to use their own legs in climbing, and to sleep under +the stars. This book has been written primarily to +show Young America just how interesting, exciting, +full of outdoor adventure, and full, too, of real education, +life in this National park can be. We can +promise our boy readers, and their parents, too, that +there isn’t any “faking” in this story. The trips +we tell about are all real trips, and if you go to +Glacier Park you can take them all—all, that is, +except, perhaps, the climb up the head wall of Iceberg +Lake. You have to have a real mountaineer +as a guide, with a real Alpine rope, in order to +make that trip. It was fortunate for Tom that one +came along. Then, too, unless you stay in the +Park over the winter, you haven’t much chance of +riding down a mountain on a snow-slide. Possibly +you wouldn’t want to. I never knew anybody who +took that trip intentionally! Tom and Joe and the +Ranger were unlucky enough to take it, and lucky +enough to live to tell the tale. +</p> +<p> +This book isn’t written just to use the Rocky +Mountains as a background for adventures which +never really could happen to ordinary boys. It is +written, on the contrary, to show what fine adventures +can happen to ordinary boys, in one of the +finest and most healthful and beautiful spots in this +great country of ours, if only the boys have pluck, +and have been good Scouts enough to learn how +to take care of themselves in the open. +</p> +<p> +And it is written, too, in order to tell about +Glacier Park, to make you want to go there and see +it for yourself, to make you glad and proud that +the United States has set aside for the use of all the +public such a splendid playground, and to make +you, if possible, more determined than ever to protect +this, and all our other parks and State and +National forests, from the attacks of the men who +are always trying to get laws passed to let them spoil +the meadows and the wildflowers with their sheep, +or cut the forests for timber, putting their selfish +gain above the welfare of the whole people. +</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;'>W. P. E.</p> +<p style='text-align:left; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0;'>Twin Fires</p> +<p style='text-align:left; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;'>Sheffield, Massachusetts</p> +<p style='text-align:left; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;'>1918</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>CONTENTS</span></p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary='table of contents'> +<tr><td style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</td><td></td><td style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>I.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Joe Gets Bad News About His Lungs—His “Pipes,” as Spider Called Them</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chI'>13</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>II.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Joe Learns How Many Friends He Has, and Achieves a Tent to Sleep In</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chII'>21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>III.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Spider Finds a Way to Get to the Rocky Mountains, to “Pump Joe’s Pipes Full of Ozone”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIII'>32</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Tom and Joe Cross the Continent with Their Faces Glued to the Car Window and Reach the Rocky Mountains</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIV'>43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>V.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Scouts Learn Why the Rocky Mountains Have No Foot-Hills and Arrive at Many Glacier</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chV'>54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Tom Becomes Boss of the Tepee Camp, and the Scouts Pitch Their Tents in the Evergreens</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVI'>63</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Joe Gets Acquainted with Porcupines, the Diamond Hitch, and Switchback Trails</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVII'>73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Joe Gets a Chance at Last to Go out on a Trip As Camp Cook</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVIII'>93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Over Piegan Pass to St. Mary Lake, Underneath the Precipices</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIX'>100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>X.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Ranger Tells a Grizzly Bear Story Before the Camp-Fire</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chX'>123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>To Gunsight Lake, and Joe Falls Into a Crevasse on Blackfeet Glacier</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXI'>129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Over Gunsight to Lake McDonald, and Joe and Bob See a Grizzly at Close Range</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXII'>144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>In Avalanche Basin, Where Bob Learns That the Story of the Englishman’s Walk Before Breakfast Was No Joke</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIII'>168</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Up the Divide in a Rain, with a Lost Horse on the Way, and a Howling Snow-Storm at the Top</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIV'>177</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Tom’s Chance for Adventure Comes Unexpectedly, Wearing Hobnail Shoes and Carrying a Rope</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXV'>189</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Tom Goes up a Two Thousand Foot Wall, with an Alpine Rope, and Learns the Proper Way to Climb</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVI'>203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Tom Sees Both Mountain Sheep and Goats Do Their Wild Leaps Down Dizzy Ledges</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVII'>218</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Joe Gets Good News from the Doctor, and the Scouts Name Their Camp, “Camp Kent”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVIII'>232</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Indian Pow-Wow—Tom and Joe Get Into the Squaw Dance</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIX'>240</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Scouts Start on a Trip Together at Last, to Climb Chief Mountain</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXX'>250</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Climb up the Tower of Chief Mountain, the Indian Relic on the Summit and an Eagle’s Nest</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXI'>257</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Blizzard on Flat Top—The Camp is Christened “Valley Forge”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXII'>268</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Up to Chaney Glacier and the Discovery of a Three Thousand Foot Precipice</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIII'>276</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Boys Prepare for Winter in the Park, and Learn Why the Timber-Line Trees Are Only Three Feet Tall</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIV'>283</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Protecting the Deer Yards—the Scouts Wait in the Moonlight and Bag a Mountain Lion</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXV'>291</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXVI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Hundred Miles in Four Days, Over the Snow, Which Is a Long Trip to Get Your Mail</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXVI'>302</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXVII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Ranger and the Boys Get a Ride Down the Mountain on a Snow Avalanche, and Don’t Look for Another</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXVII'>312</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXVIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Tom Starts on a Long Hike in the Deep Snow, over the Divide, Risking Snow-Slides, to Save the Ranger’s Life</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXVIII'>318</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Tom Tramps Down McDonald Creek in a Chinook Wind, and Reaches Shelter Almost Exhausted</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIX'>322</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Tom Gets Back with the Doctor, and Mills Pulls Through—then the Scouts Have to Leave for Home</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXX'>327</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXXI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Home Again—Joe’s Christmas Present to His Mother Is Sound Health Again, and Tom Rejoices</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXXI'>334</a></td></tr> +</table> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span><a name='chI' id='chI'></a>CHAPTER I—Joe Gets Bad News About His Lungs—His “Pipes,” as Spider Called Them</h2> +<p> +“What’s the matter, Joe, lost all your pep?” +asked Tom Seymour, as he slowed his pace +down so that his tired companion could keep up +with him. It was a Saturday morning in May, and +the two boys, in their scout suits, with heavy shoes +on, were tramping through the woods, where the +spring flowers were beginning to appear and the +little leaf buds were bursting out on the trees. Both +Tom Seymour and his chum, Joe Clark, loved the +woods, and especially in early spring they got into +them whenever they could, to see how the birds and +animals had come through the winter, and then a +little later to watch for the flowers and see the foliage +come. +</p> +<p> +But this day Joe seemed to be getting tired. +They were tramping up a hillside, through mould +softened by a recent rain, that made the footing +difficult, and though Joe was trying to keep up, Tom +realized that something was the matter. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +</p> +<p> +“Say, Joe, old scout, what ails you, anyhow?” he +asked again. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it’s nothing,” Joe answered. “I’ve had a +cold for a month, you know, and it’s pulled me +down, that’s all. Ma’s giving me some tonic. I’ll +be all right. But I do get awful tired lately.” +</p> +<p> +He stopped just then and began to cough. +</p> +<p> +“I wish you’d shake that old cold,” Tom said. +“I’m getting sick of hearing you bark in school—you +always tune up just as Pap Forbes is calling on +me to translate Cæsar. And if you don’t shake it, +you’ll be no good for the team, and how’s the Southmead +High School going to trim Mercerville without +you on second bag?” +</p> +<p> +Joe stopped coughing as soon as he could, and +demanded, “Well, you don’t think I keep the old +thing around because I like it, do you? I’ll give it +to anybody who’ll cart it off. Come on—let’s forget +it!” +</p> +<p> +They started up the hill again, which grew steeper +as they advanced, and presently Tom realized once +more that Joe couldn’t keep up. As he had to +breathe harder with the increased steepness, too, he +began to cough again. +</p> +<p> +“Say, have you been to see a doctor?” Tom +demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, sure,” said Joe, sitting down on a rock to +rest “Ma had old Doc Jones in first week I was +sick, and he gave me some stuff—tasted like a mixture +of kerosene and skunk cabbage, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Doc Jones is no good,” Tom declared. “My +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +father says he wouldn’t have him for a sick cat. +He doesn’t even know there are germs. Mr. Rogers +told me the Doc thought it was foolish to make us +scouts boil the water from strange brooks before we +drank it. Haven’t you been to anybody else since, +when you didn’t get better?” +</p> +<p> +“Say, what do you think I am, a millionaire?” +said Joe. “I can’t be spending money on fancy +doctors, and get through high school, too. Ma’s +got all she can handle now, with food and everything +costing so much.” +</p> +<p> +“I know all that, old scout,” Tom answered, putting +his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “But I guess it +would cost your mother more if you were laid up, +wouldn’t it? Now, I’ve got a hunch you need some +good doc to give you the once over. Are you tired +all the time like this?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no,” Joe replied. “Or only at night, +mostly,” he added. “I get kind of hot and tired +at night, and I can’t do much work. That’s why +I’ve been flunking Cæsar. Old Pap thinks I’m +lying down on the job, but I really ain’t. I try +every evening, but the words get all mixed together +on the page.” +</p> +<p> +Tom sprang to his feet with the quick, almost +catlike agility which, in combination with his thin, +rather tall and very wiry frame, had earned for him +the nickname of Spider. +</p> +<p> +“You come along with me,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“Depends on where you’re going,” Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Say, I’m patrol leader, ain’t I?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +</p> +<p> +“You are, but this isn’t the patrol. We aren’t +under scout discipline to-day.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>You</em> are,” laughed Tom. “You’re going to do +just what I tell you. Come on, now!” +</p> +<p> +He grabbed Joe by the wrist and brought him to +his feet. Joe didn’t resist, either, though Tom expected +a scrap. He came along meekly down the +hill, through the wet, fragrant woods. Once on the +village street, Spider led the way directly to Mr. +Rogers’ house, and ’round the house to the studio, +and knocked on the door. +</p> +<p> +The scout master opened it. He was wearing his +long artist’s apron, and had his big palette, covered +with all the colors of the rainbow, thrust over the +thumb of his left hand. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, Spider; hello, Joe,” he said. “What’s +the trouble? Has the tenderfoot patrol mutinied?” +</p> +<p> +The boys came in. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir, but Joe’s windpipes have,” said Tom. +He quickly told about his chum’s cold, and how he +got tired now all the time. +</p> +<p> +“Now, cough for the gentleman, Joe,” he added +with a laugh. +</p> +<p> +Joe laughed, too, which actually did set him to +coughing. +</p> +<p> +But Mr. Rogers didn’t laugh. He looked very +grave, and began to take off his apron. He washed +his hands, put on his coat, and with a short, “Come, +boys,” started down the path. +</p> +<p> +There was a famous doctor in Southmead who +didn’t practice in the town at all. His patients came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +from various parts of the country, to be treated for +special diseases, and they lived while there in a sort +of hotel-sanitorium. It was said that this doctor, +whose name was Meyer, charged twenty dollars a +visit. The boys soon realized that Mr. Rogers was +headed for his house. +</p> +<p> +“Say, who does he think I am, John D. Rockefeller?” +Joe whispered to Tom. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you worry,” Tom whispered back. “He’s +a friend of old Doc Meyer’s, all right. He’ll fix it. +You trot along.” +</p> +<p> +They had to wait in the doctor’s anteroom some +time, as he had a patient in the office. Finally he +came out and greeted Mr. Rogers warmly. He was +not a native of Southmead, but had come there only +two or three years ago from New York, to have his +sanitorium in the country, and he had always been +so busy that most of the townspeople scarcely knew +him. Tom and Joe, while they had seen him, had +never spoken with him before. He was a middle-aged +Jew, with gold spectacles on his big nose, and +large, kindly brown eyes, which grew very keen as +he looked at the boys, and seemed to pierce right +through them. +</p> +<p> +The scout master spoke to him a moment, in a +low voice, and then he led all three into his office. +It wasn’t like any doctor’s office the scouts had ever +been in. It looked more like some sort of a mysterious +laboratory, except for the flat-top office desk in +the middle, and the strange chair, with wheels and +joints, which could evidently be tipped at any angle, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +or made into a flat surface like an elevated sofa. +There was a great X-ray machine, and many other +strange devices, and rows of test tubes on a white +enameled table, and sinks and sterilizers. +</p> +<p> +The doctor patted Joe on the head as if he’d been +a little boy instead of a first class scout sixteen years +old, going on seventeen, and large for his age. He +sat Joe down in a chair and asked him a lot of questions +first, making some notes on a card which he +took out of a small filing cabinet that was like a +library catalogue case. Then he told him to undress. +</p> +<p> +Joe stripped to the waist, and stood up while the +doctor tapped his shoulders, his chest, his back, and +then listened with his ear down both on his chest +and back, and finally he took a stethoscope and +went over every square inch of surface, front and +back, covering his lungs, while he made the patient +cough, say “Ah,” draw in a deep breath, and expel +it slowly. Finally he took his temperature, and a +sample of sputum. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile Tom looked on with a rapidly increasing +alarm. He knew a little something about tuberculosis, +and realized it was for that he was examining +his chum. He knew what a deadly disease it is, +too, if it is not caught in time, and he began to feel +sick in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to cry +out to the doctor and demand that he tell him at +once that old Joe did not have this terrible disease—that +he was all right, that it was nothing but a cold. +But, of course, he said not a word. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +</p> +<p> +The doctor was putting Joe on the scales now, and +weighing him. +</p> +<p> +“A hundred and fifteen,” he said. “How’s that? +About your regular weight?” +</p> +<p> +“Guess there’s something wrong with your +scales,” Joe answered, looking at the marker. “I +ought to be a hundred and thirty. ’Course, I had +more clothes on in the winter, last time I was +weighed.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and you ought to have grown some since,” +said the doctor. “Well, you will yet. You go home +and rest now—sit in the sun this afternoon, and go +to bed early, with your window open. Come back +here to-morrow morning at ten o’clock, and I’ll +know more about you.” +</p> +<p> +“But I can’t sit in the sun to-day,” Joe cried. +“Why, we’ve got a game this after’, and I <em>got</em> to +play second.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor looked at him with his kindly, fatherly +smile, but his voice was like a general’s giving a +command. “No more baseball for you for the present, +my boy,” he said. “You’ve got to keep quiet +and rest, if you want to get well quickly.” +</p> +<p> +“How soon can he play?” Tom put in, excitedly. +After he had said it, he thought it sounded as if he +were more interested in the team than in Joe, and he +was going to explain, but the doctor replied before +he had a chance. +</p> +<p> +“That will all depend on how quiet you make him +keep,” said he. “You can come back with him to-morrow +if you want, and I’ll tell you some more.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> +</p> +<p> +The doctor spoke softly to Mr. Rogers while Joe +was dressing, and then the three went out. +</p> +<p> +“Say, he doesn’t leave much of you unexplored, +does he?” said Joe. “What’s the damage, Mr. +Rogers? Gee, I never thought I’d be swell enough +to go to Doc Meyer!” +</p> +<p> +“I guess he doesn’t charge for scouts, when they +really need him,” Mr. Rogers answered. “Now, +Joe, you go home and do what he told you. I’ll be +over to see your mother later, and tell her to keep an +eye on you.” +</p> +<p> +Tom went with the scout master in the opposite +direction, his face very grave. +</p> +<p> +“Is—is—has old Joey got consumption?” he +managed to ask, his lips dry and a lump coming up +in his chest. +</p> +<p> +The scout master looked at his young patrol +leader, and then put a hand over his shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“The doctor won’t say for certain till he’s examined +the sputum,” Mr. Rogers replied, “but I’m +afraid he’s got the beginnings of it. Now, don’t +take it hard, and don’t say a word to Joe or his +mother or anybody else. He’s young, and it’s just +beginning, and we’ll pull him through in good shape, +and make a well man of him again. But you must +make him do just what the doctor says, and stand by +him.” +</p> +<p> +“Stand by him!” cried Tom, two tears coming +into his eyes in spite of himself. “Say, he’s my best +friend, isn’t he? What do you take me for?” +</p> +<p> +“I take you for a good scout,” said Mr. Rogers. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span><a name='chII' id='chII'></a>CHAPTER II—Joe Learns How Many Friends He Has, and Achieves a Tent to Sleep In</h2> +<p> +Tom could hardly sleep that night, for thinking +about his friend. The doctor would probably +tell him he’d got to go to the Adirondacks to live, or +maybe to Colorado or New Mexico; Tom knew that +people with bad lungs were sent to those places. +But how was Joe going to get there, and how was +he going to live when he got there? Joe’s mother +was a widow, with two other, younger children, and +it was hard enough for her to send Joe through high +school, in spite of what he earned in summer driving +a mowing machine on the golf links. If he had +consumption, the doctor wouldn’t let him work—he +would make him keep quiet. How was it going to +be managed? Tom kept turning over this problem +in his head, till he finally fell asleep for very weariness. +</p> +<p> +The next day he and Mr. Rogers again went with +Joe to Dr. Meyer’s. On the road Tom was silent +and serious. +</p> +<p> +“Say, what’s the matter with you, Spider? You +look as if you were going to my funeral,” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, what’s the matter with you?” Mr. Rogers +added, giving him a sharp look which Joe didn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +see. “Scouts are supposed to be cheerful, aren’t +they?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” Tom answered, trying to grin. But +he made rather a poor job of it, he was so worried +and anxious. +</p> +<p> +Dr. Meyer sat them all down in his office. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” he said, turning to Joe, “how do you +feel this morning? Did you keep still as I told +you to?” +</p> +<p> +“You bet he did!” Tom put in. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll see, we’ll see,” the doctor smiled, putting +a thermometer into Joe’s mouth, and picking up his +left wrist to feel his pulse. +</p> +<p> +“Now, that’s better than yesterday,” he added, +after examining the thermometer. “You see what +resting does. I guess you’ll have to do some more +of it.” +</p> +<p> +“You mean I can’t play second next week, either?” +Joe cried. +</p> +<p> +“I mean you can’t play second for a long time,” +said the doctor, gravely. +</p> +<p> +“Is—is there something the matter with me?” +Joe cried, growing a little pale. +</p> +<p> +“There isn’t much yet, but there will be, if you +don’t do what I tell you,” the doctor answered. +“You have a case of incipient tuberculosis, that +hasn’t developed enough yet so we can’t cure it, +and make you weigh a hundred and eighty pounds +by the time you are twenty, or even nineteen. You +ought to be a big man, you know. But it will all +depend on you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +</p> +<p> +Tom was leaning half out of his chair to +listen. +</p> +<p> +“What must he do, doctor?” he asked, unable to +keep silent. +</p> +<p> +“Are you going to make him do it?” the doctor +smiled. +</p> +<p> +“I am, or—or bust his old head,” Tom replied, +with such heartfelt affection that both the men +laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Do you sleep with your windows wide open at +night?” the doctor asked Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Why—I—I can’t in winter, ’cause ma won’t let +me; it makes the room too cold for the kid, she +says.” +</p> +<p> +“What!” Dr. Meyer exclaimed. “Do you sleep +with a small brother?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, the first thing you do is to stop that! You +must sleep in a room by yourself. It’s not safe for +your brother. You must sleep with the windows +wide open.” +</p> +<p> +“Couldn’t he have my tent, and sleep outdoors?” +Tom put in. +</p> +<p> +“Better still,” the doctor replied. “Now, I’m +going to make up a list of what you are to eat and +drink, and a schedule of how you are to rest, and +how much you can walk around.” +</p> +<p> +“Walk around?” Joe said, bewildered. “I <em>have</em> +to walk to school, and back.” +</p> +<p> +“No you don’t. No more school for you this +term,” the doctor answered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +</p> +<p> +Joe’s jaw dropped. “Why—I—I—I’ll not get +promoted into the senior class, then!” he gasped. +“Oh, please, I <em>must</em> go to school!” +</p> +<p> +“Good gracious, here’s a boy that <em>wants</em> to go to +school!” laughed Dr. Meyer. “It does you credit, +my son, but it can’t be.” +</p> +<p> +“But it’s been so hard for mother——” +</p> +<p> +“It would be harder for her if you couldn’t go to +school at all—ever, wouldn’t it?” said the doctor, +leaning forward and laying a kindly hand on Joe’s +knee. +</p> +<p> +“Yes—yes, sir,” said Joe, who was now pretty +white and scared. +</p> +<p> +“Dr. Meyer,” Tom put in, “oughtn’t Joe to go +away somewhere to the mountains—the Adirondacks, +or Colorado, or—or some place?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, he’d undoubtedly mend quicker in the +Rockies, if he could be looked after,” the doctor +replied. “I wouldn’t say it’s absolutely necessary +in his case, but if he knows somebody out there to +look after him, and can afford it——” +</p> +<p> +“’Course I can’t afford it, Spider,” Joe put in. +“Quit pipe dreamin’.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m not pipe dreaming,” Tom replied. “If +you’ll get well quicker in the Rockies, you’re going +to the Rockies, and I’m going along to take care of +you.” +</p> +<p> +“How are you going to manage it, Tom?” said +Mr. Rogers. +</p> +<p> +“I—I dunno, but I’m <em>going</em> to, somehow. Old +Joe’s got to get well and finish high school, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> +room with me in college, and then we’re going to be +civil engineers or foresters, and——” +</p> +<p> +“But the first thing is to get well,” the doctor interrupted. +“You can plan for the Rockies later. Right +now we must see about Joe’s diet and daily schedule.” +</p> +<p> +After he had drawn these up—and it seemed to +Joe he’d got to live on raw eggs and milk and cod +liver oil, and spend most of his life in a chair on the +porch—the two boys and the scout master departed. +</p> +<p> +It was now Joe who was depressed and glum, and +Tom who needed no prompting to be cheerful. The +minute he saw his chum in the dumps, he set about +restoring his spirits. +</p> +<p> +“Buck up, old scout,” he cried. “The doc told +you it would be all right. Gee, what’s just sitting +on the porch for a few weeks? You won’t have to +translate any old Cæsar, and I’ll come every day to +see you swallowing cod liver oil, and then as soon +as I can get it doped out, we’ll hit the trail for the +Rocky Mountains. Don’t you want to see the Rocky +Mountains?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, quit your kidding,” poor Joe answered. +“The only way I’ll ever see the Rocky Mountains +is in the movies.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you fool yourself. Mr. Rogers and I’ll +dope out something yet, won’t we, Mr. Rogers?” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll put our heads together hard, anyhow,” the +scout master answered. “But first, Tom, we must +get the scouts together and find a way in which we +can all help Joe’s mother, now Joe can’t haul wood +and do heavy work.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +</p> +<p> +“That’s easy, sir. And we must teach all the +scouts to stop sleeping with their windows shut, too, +mustn’t we?” +</p> +<p> +“Alas!” said Mr. Rogers. “I thought I had. I +guess we’ve got to teach the mothers and fathers to +let them open the windows. And that’s not easy, +Tom.” +</p> +<p> +“I s’pose not. Funny how afraid some folks are +of fresh air. Well, old Joe’s going to get plenty. +I’m going to set up my tent in his yard this afternoon.” +</p> +<p> +“Not your new tent, Spider, it might spoil it,” +said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Spoil your grandmother,” Tom retorted. “I +guess it’s my tent and I can do what I please with +it, can’t I? You go home and drink a tumbler of +cod liver oil.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m going with him, and have a talk with his +mother,” said Mr. Rogers. “You can bring the +tent after dinner, and if you need a cot bed for it, +stop at my house and get my folding camp cot. +That’ll be my contribution.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure, we’ll fix him up so he’ll never want to +move into the house again,” cried Tom, hurrying +off toward his house. +</p> +<p> +His tent, a Christmas present from his father and +mother, was Tom’s proudest possession. It was +made of balloon silk, very thin and light, but water-proof. +It could “sleep” two occupants comfortably, +and had mosquito netting screens for the flaps, +and a little screen curtain for the rear window. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +could be erected either on poles or on a rope strung +between two trees. Yet the whole tent could be +rolled up into a bundle which you could tuck under +your arm, and it weighed but fifteen pounds. It +cost a considerable sum of money, for Tom’s parents, +while not rich, wanted to make Tom a good present +that last Christmas as a reward for his improvement +in his school work. We might as well tell the truth +about it, for a story that doesn’t tell the truth is sure +to get found out. Tom, in his sophomore year in +the high school, had been a pretty poor student. He +was “bright enough,” as his teachers said, but he +would not study. He had got interested in so many +things that seemed more worth while to him than +books—trapping, building a cabin in the woods, +football and baseball, and especially the scouts. But +after his sophomore year was over, and the summer +vacation, too, was nearly done, Mr. Rogers called +him into the studio one day and had a long talk +with him. The result of that talk was that he came +out pretty well ashamed of himself. Here he was a +patrol leader in the scouts, Mr. Rogers pointed out, +and right end on the high school team, with the +prospect of being captain his senior year—in other +words, one of the leaders among the boys. It was +up to him, then, to set the rest a good example. +Besides, he wanted to go to college, did he not, or +to a forestry school? Did he not know that there +were examinations to be passed? And what good +was a surveyor or an engineer or a forester who did +not know his business? Did Tom think you could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +know your business without studying? And that +did not mean beginning to study some time in the +future—it meant beginning now! Mr. Rogers ended +up by telling him he was a bad scout, a bit of a +slacker, which got to him more than anything else +that was said. +</p> +<p> +He went out of the studio very sober, and he began +to work that fall term as he had never worked +in school before. Of course, he soon found out that +if he got his lessons every day, it was really very +much easier to keep along than it had been when he +used to let them slide for two or three days at a +time, and then try to catch up. In fact, it was really +no trouble at all, and from almost the tail end of the +class, he suddenly moved up to number four. His +father and mother were so delighted that they gave +him the balloon silk tent for Christmas. +</p> +<p> +As soon as dinner was over, he got this tent out +of his closet, wrapped in its canvas bag, took his +scout axe and some sticks from the wood-shed to +make pegs with, and started for Joe’s house. On +the way he stopped for Mr. Rogers’ folding cot bed. +He found Joe sitting on the back porch, in the sun, +and he made him stay there, though poor Joe wanted +to come down and help set the tent up. +</p> +<p> +There were two trees in the back yard, and between +them Tom strung a double strand of clothesline, +through the rings on the top of the tent. Then +he carefully raked the ground below, and with a +shovel filled in a little hollow so that the rain water +would drain away and not come in under. Then he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +stretched the tent, cut his pieces of wood into pegs, +and pegged it down. After that, he unfolded and +set up the cot bed, and with the help of Joe’s mother +made up the bed with blankets, put an old rug on +the ground beside it, brought out an old chair, a +small table, a candlestick and candle, and a washbowl +and pitcher. +</p> +<p> +“There!” he cried. “That’s good enough for +anybody. Now, old Cod Liver, you can sleep outdoors, +rain or shine.” +</p> +<p> +Joe insisted on coming down to see his “new +room,” and while they were inspecting it three of +the Moose Patrol came into the yard. They had +heard the news about Joe—“by wireless, I guess,” +Tom said, for he had not told anybody except his +own father and mother—and had come to see what +they could do to help. +</p> +<p> +“Say, that’s some swell bedroom, Joe,” said Bob +Sawtelle. “Wish I had one like it. Ma wouldn’t +always be callin’ me down for spillin’ water on the +wall paper.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean, spillin’ water on the wall +paper?” Joe demanded. “What do you do, throw +it around the room?” +</p> +<p> +“Aw, no, but a feller splashes around washin’ his +face, and dumpin’ the bowl into the slop basin, don’t +he?” +</p> +<p> +“I guess you do,” Tom laughed. “Do you +fellows really want to help old Joey?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s what we’re here for,” said all three. +</p> +<p> +“All right, we’ll get the kindlings split for the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +next week, and the coal brought up for Mrs. Clark. +Where’s the axe, Joe?” +</p> +<p> +Joe showed them, and the four boys went at the +wood-pile and the coal bin. They split enough +kindlings to last at least a week, filled up the wood-box +by the kitchen stove and piled more wood behind +it and carried up three hods of coal besides +a big basket full. +</p> +<p> +“You’re awful good to do this for Joe and me,” +said Mrs. Clark. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that’s what scouts are for,” Tom declared. +“Some of us are going to come around every day +and ’tend to things, so old Joey can mind the doctor, +aren’t we, fellows?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure thing.” +</p> +<p> +“Ra-<em>ther</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“You bet.” +</p> +<p> +“Say, Spider,” Walter Howard suggested, “you +ought to call a scout meeting and get everybody in +on this—divide it up so one scout comes every day +for a week on his way home from school. Why, +old Joe’ll be well again before we’ve all had a turn!” +</p> +<p> +“That’s what I’m going to do, Walt, Tuesday +night. Pass the word along.” +</p> +<p> +“I know what my old man’s goin’ to say,” Bob +remarked. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what’s he goin’ to say? Spring it.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s goin’ to say, ‘If you boys were asked to +split kindlings for your own mothers every day, +you’d put up an awful holler.’” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, sure, mine too,” laughed Walt. “They +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +always say that. Seems as if they thought we were +splitting kindlings because we liked to split kindlings, +instead of because we like old Joey.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s the dope,” said Tom. “Funny how +folks don’t see things sometimes.” +</p> +<p> +“Ain’t it?” said Bob. “Well, so long, Joe, old +scout. Hope you sleep well in the tent.” +</p> +<p> +“So long, Bob.” +</p> +<p> +“So long”—from the others. +</p> +<p> +“So long, fellows—much obliged.” +</p> +<p> +Only Tom was left. +</p> +<p> +“It’s pretty nice to have so many friends,” said +Joe, “even if you have to get sick to find it out.” +</p> +<p> +“Now you’ve found out, you get well again,” +Spider laughed. “I’ll stop on my way to school in +the morning and see you, and find out what books +you want brought home. So long, old top.” +</p> +<p> +“So long, Spider.” +</p> +<p> +Tom went out of the gate, or, rather, over it, +vaulting it with one hand. Joe’s mother came out +on the porch and put one arm around the boy’s +neck, and with the other hand felt his forehead. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t think you’ve got so much fever to-night,” +she said. +</p> +<p> +“It’s ’cause the fellers have cut all the wood and +hauled the coal, that used to make me so tired. +Gee, they’re good scouts, aren’t they, ma—’specially +old Spider.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Joe,” said she, “there are a lot of good +people in the world.” +</p> +<p> +“You bet,” said Joe. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span><a name='chIII' id='chIII'></a>CHAPTER III—Spider Finds a Way to Get to the Rocky Mountains, to “Pump Joe’s Pipes Full of Ozone”</h2> +<p> +There are no doubt a lot of good people in the +world, as Mrs. Clark said, but there is no doubt +that a great many of them are forgetful. Tom Seymour +found this out in the next few weeks. The +scouts meant well, but every two or three days the +one whose turn it was to look after the Clark wood +and coal and do whatever heavy work there was to +be done,—work too heavy for Joe’s little brother and +sister—would forget the duty. Tom, however, +never forgot, for he went there every day, to study +his lessons with Joe so Joe could keep up in his +school work, and when the kindlings had not been +split or the coal brought up, he did it. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know what I should do without you, +Tom,” said Mrs. Clark. “I feel guilty, too, because +I feel as if you ought to be at home doing it for your +own mother.” +</p> +<p> +Tom laughed. “It’s a funny thing,” he said, “but +having this on my mind has stopped my forgetting +at home. I used to forget all the time, but now, +when I go home, ma’s wood-box is the first thing I +think of. I kind of got the habit, I guess!” +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile Tom was turning over and over in his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +mind plans for getting Joe out into the high, dry air +of the Rocky Mountains as soon as school was over. +The first thing to think about was how to raise the +money to get there. In his own case, it would be +easy, because he had over a hundred dollars in the +savings bank, which he had earned in the past five +years, or which had been given to him at Christmas, +and which he had saved up. But Joe had never been +able to save his earnings—he had needed them all +for his clothes and to help his mother out. It was +Bob Sawtelle who solved that problem. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s us scouts give a dance and a strawberry +festival for old Joey,” he said. “We can all of us +pick some strawberries, enough for the feed, an’ get +our mothers to make cake, an’ Bill Andrus’s father’ll +give us the cream from his dairy, an’ the girls’ll +help us serve, an’ everybody‘ll come when they know +it’s for old Joey, an’ there’ll be two hundred people +there, an’ we’ll soak ’em fifty cents, and that’ll clear +’most a hundred bones, an’——” +</p> +<p> +“And you’d better take in some breath,” laughed +Tom, “while I tell you that’s a fine idea. It’s as +good as settled now.” +</p> +<p> +Tom was so sure of the success of the strawberry +festival, in fact, that he began at once to consider +what they were going to do when they got out West. +Here he had to have Mr. Rogers’ help. The scout +master wrote some letters, and a week later called +Tom into the studio. +</p> +<p> +“I think I’ve got it,” he said, “that is, if you are +willing to work, and don’t care what you do.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> +</p> +<p> +“That’s me, when it’s for old Joey,” Spider declared. +</p> +<p> +“Well, here’s the proposition. Ever hear of Glacier +National Park?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve seen some pictures of it in a magazine,” said +Tom. “Looked good to me, too!” +</p> +<p> +“I guess it’s a pretty fine place, though I was +never there. It is up in the northwestern part of +Montana, on the Great Northern Railroad, and there +are two big hotels in the Park, right under the mountains, +and some smaller hotels they call chalets, because +they are built like Swiss chalets. A friend of +mine who is connected with the railroad tells me +these hotels, which open late in June, always need +bell-boys. They are so far from any cities, or even +any towns of any sort, that it’s hard to get labor out +there. Now, I guess you could get a job as bellhop +all right, though I don’t know whether Joe’s strong +enough to work yet. We’d have to ask the doctor +first. If he isn’t, my plan would be for you to take +your tent along, and two folding cot beds, and get +permission to pitch it out in the woods near the hotel. +You wouldn’t have any other use for your money +out there, so you could probably support Joe all right, +and he could do the cooking. He’s a good cook, +isn’t he?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure—the best in the patrol. He’s got a merit +badge for cooking, you know.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course, they might object to having a tuberculous +person in the hotel, but if he kept out in the +woods, there wouldn’t be any trouble, my friend says. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +Besides, Joe isn’t a bad case. He’s plainly getting +better all the time. I think we can fix it, if you are +willing to take the job, and look after him. Being a +bellhop isn’t just the job I’d pick out for you, or any +boy, if I had the choosing. You have to be a bit of +a bootlick, and people will give you tips, which is +against all scout rules.” +</p> +<p> +“But the tips won’t be for me, they’ll be for old +Joey,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +“Exactly. And they will be given to you for work +you do. They will really be your pay, for you won’t +get much other pay. It all depends on how you +take them. If you serve people who don’t give +you tips as well and as cheerfully as you serve the +others, it will be all right. We’ve got to get Joe +well, and we can’t pick and choose. So I’ll put it up +to you. I guess I can trust you not to become a tip +hog. And if you find any better way to earn Joe’s +keep out there, where you won’t have to take tips to +get your living, you take it, won’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“You bet I will!” cried Tom. “Maybe I can become +a—a cowboy, or something.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Rogers smiled. “You’ll have to learn to ride +a horse first.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I can ride a horse.” +</p> +<p> +“You may think you can, but after you’ve seen a +real cowboy ride, you’ll know you’re only in the kindergarten +class,” the scout master laughed. +</p> +<p> +Now that it seemed reasonably sure that he could +get Joe to the Rockies, and find a way to live after +they got there, Tom went at the task of arranging +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +the strawberry festival. Of course, he made Bob +Sawtelle chairman of the “festival committee,” because +it was Bob’s idea to start with. All the scouts +whose fathers or mothers had strawberry beds were +“rounded up,” and a list made of how many baskets +could be expected. Little Tim Sawyer, who was +clever with a pencil or brush, made several posters to +hang in the post-office and the stores. Spider himself +wrote some notices for the weekly paper. Mr. +Martin, who owned Martin’s block, where the festival +was to be held, promised them the hall rent free, and +as the cream was promised to them, also, and the +cakes were made by the mothers, about all they had +to buy was the sugar. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, we’re forgetting the drinks!” Bob suddenly +cried, “and the music! We can’t have a dance +without music.” +</p> +<p> +Some of the high school girls, Joe’s classmates, +promised to furnish the fruit punch, and serve it, too, +so that was easily settled. The music—a pianist +and two violins—the boys hired from a near-by town, +at a cost of fifteen dollars. With the sugar and a +few other little expenses, their total outlay was about +twenty dollars. The affair was so well advertised, +however, and all the scouts went around selling +tickets for so many days in advance, that when the +evening came (it was a fine night, too, in June), +there were two hundred and fifty people in the hall, +and the scouts who took tickets at the door were +kept busy till their fingers ached. The strawberries +were all used up, and Bob and Tom had to rush out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +to the drug store to buy ice-cream for some of the +late comers. That cut into part of their profits, but +of course they could not refuse to give something to +eat to the people who had paid for it. When the +hard work of serving all these people was over, and +the dancing had begun, Bob and Tom took all the +money into a back room, and counted it up. With +the musicians and the sugar paid for, and the ice-cream +from the druggist’s, there was left a little over +ninety dollars clear profit. +</p> +<p> +“Hooray!” cried Tom, “that’ll get old Joey to +Glacier Park easy! Now, if I could only hear from +my application for a job, we’d start next Monday. +School is over. Gosh, there’s no sense hanging +’round here.” +</p> +<p> +“Bet you hear to-morrow,” said Bob. “I wish I +was going, too, Spider.” +</p> +<p> +“Come along,” cried Tom. “It’s going to be +great. I’m going to get a job as a guide, or something, +when I get out there and learn the ropes, and +climb all over the mountains and maybe see a goat +or a grizzly bear!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, you bring me a bearskin for a rug, and +we’ll call it quits,” Bob answered. “I guess next +year I’ll get up a strawberry festival for myself. +Maybe I can get sick, or something, this winter.” +</p> +<p> +“A lot you can, you old fatty,” Tom laughed. +“You look about as sick as—as a pig before killing.” +</p> +<p> +Bob nearly upset the pile of money, trying to +reach for Tom’s head, to punch it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +</p> +<p> +Sure enough, the very next day Tom did hear +from his application. He rushed over to Mr. Rogers’ +studio. +</p> +<p> +“Look,” he cried. “I get a job all right, but I +don’t know just what it means. It says I’m to be in +charge of the Many Glacier tepee camp, if I turn out +to be big enough, and suit the boss. Otherwise, I’ll +be a bellhop in the Many Glacier Hotel. I’ll get forty +dollars a month and board at the camp. What’s a +tepee camp?” +</p> +<p> +“You know as much about it as I do,” the scout +master said. “I suppose it’s a camp composed of +Indian tepees, which the hotel rents to people who’d +rather camp out than stay inside. Anyhow, I hope +you get that job, for I don’t like to think of one of +my scouts taking tips all the time, the way a bellhop +gets to do. It’s un-American. Probably Joe could +help you ’round the tepee camp, anyway with the +cooking. And speaking of Joe, the first thing we +must do is to take him ’round to Dr. Meyer’s again, +and find out just what he can and can’t do, and +what you’ve got to feed him, and so forth. Suppose +we go right now.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor gave Joe another thorough examination, +from head to foot, and then put him on the +scales. He smiled as the weight had to be pushed +twelve pounds beyond where it hung in May. +</p> +<p> +“You see what rest, food and minding the doctor +does,” said he. “Well, my boy, you’re on the mend. +As a matter of fact, there isn’t very much the matter +with you now except a weakened condition and, of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +course, a tendency to relapse without proper care. +A year in the Rocky Mountains ought to make a +well man of you.” +</p> +<p> +“A year!” Joe exclaimed. “We’re only going +for the summer.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, the summer will help,” said the doctor. +“Keep on eating your milk and eggs, if you can get +’em, but probably after you’ve been in the woods a +while you won’t worry much about your food—you’ll +gobble what you can get, and so long as you feel +right, go ahead. I’ll give your friend a clinical +thermometer to take your temperature, and you must +get weighed once in so often. It wouldn’t be a bad +idea to have a doctor look you over now and then, +too, if one comes into the Park. The things you +must look out for are over-exertion and exposure. I +wouldn’t do anything but light work for a month yet, +at least, and no climbing or long walks. If you +must go somewhere, go on horseback, at a slow pace. +And keep warm and dry.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Joe, that’s a fine, encouraging report!” +the scout master declared as they left. “You keep +on minding the doc, and you’ll be a well man.” +</p> +<p> +“He’ll keep on minding him, all right, all right,” +said Tom, putting his arm around Joe’s shoulder, and +then tightening it around his neck till Joe’s head was +forced over where he could give it a friendly punch. +</p> +<p> +Joe started to duck and punch back, but Spider +cried, “Here—cut that out! No over-exertion!”—and +then the three laughed and hurried on, to make +arrangements for the departure of the boys. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +</p> +<p> +Clothing, of course, was the most important thing, +and the boys got out their trunks and selected what +they would need, with the aid of a folder describing +conditions in the Park. They took their scout suits, +of course, with leggins, and their heaviest high +boots. Tom also added a box of steel spikes and a +key to screw them in with. They also took their +sweaters, and mackinaws, though it seemed foolish +to be taking mackinaws for a summer trip. Then +they packed two suits of winter underwear, several +pairs of heavy wool socks for tramping, two flannel +outing shirts, and rubber ponchos, which both boys +had bought the year before when the scouts took a +five day hike. Then, of course, they took their +knapsacks, and both boys sent for dunnage bags of +stout canvas. They took their scout axes and cooking +kits, knives, Tom’s camera, compasses, and notebooks +to keep diaries in. Tom had a folding camp +lantern for which they got a box of candles. For +bedding, each packed two pairs of heavy double +blankets, and Joe’s mother insisted on making a +separate bundle of a winter bed puff, which, as it +turned out later, he was glad enough to have. They +also put in their winter pajamas, their scout hats, +and some old leather gloves. Finally, they got +some packages of dehydrated vegetables, soup +sticks, powdered egg, army rations, and tabloid tea, +to use on walking trips if Joe got strong enough to +tramp. Such condensed and light weight rations, +Mr. Rogers thought, probably could not be purchased +in the Park. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +</p> +<p> +It was a lovely day, almost at the end of June, +when the two boys finally started. There had been +a scout meeting the night before, at which Bob Sawtelle, +who was to act as patrol leader in Spider’s absence, +had made a speech for the rest and presented +Joe with a pocket camera, the gift of the entire troop. +It was a short speech, but to the point. +</p> +<p> +“Old Joey’s pipes have gone on the blink,” he +said, “and he’s got to beat it out West to pump ’em +full of ozone. We other fellers thought we’d like to +see what he’s seen, when he gets back, so we all +chipped in and got a camera. Here it is, Joe, and +don’t try to snap Spider with it, or you’ll bust the +lens.” +</p> +<p> +Joe tried to make a speech in reply, but he +couldn’t do it. He just took the camera, and said, +“Gee, fellows, you’re—you’re all to the good.” +</p> +<p> +“And don’t you worry about your mother’s coal, +either,” Bob added. “We’re going to keep right +on fillin’ the hods, and if anybody forgets when it’s +his turn, I’m goin’ to beat him on the bean.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s a good one,” cried little Sam Cowan. +“You forgot yourself yesterday!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I ain’t goin’ to forget any more, or let you, +either,” Bob answered. +</p> +<p> +Bob and several more scouts, as well as Mr. +Rogers, Joe’s mother and little brother and sister, +and Tom’s family, were all down at the depot to see +the boys off in the morning. There were kisses and +some tears from the women, and a scout cheer from +the boys, and cries of “Have you got your axe, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +Spider?” and “Joe, dear, are you sure you put in +your comb and brush?” and “Tom, dear, now don’t +forget to send mother a postcard just as soon as +you get there,” and “Say, Joey, bring home a Rocky +Mountain sheep’s head for the clubroom,” and “Hi, +Spider, don’t forget a grizzly bear rug for me, so my +little tootsies won’t be cold when I hop out of bed.” +</p> +<p> +The train came, the boys got aboard, it pulled out, +and looking back they saw their friends and parents +on the platform, waving good-bye, and the church +spires and housetops of their village vanishing into +the June green of the tree tops. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Tom, “we’re off for the Rocky +Mountains!” +</p> +<p> +Joe rubbed his eyes. “Sure we are!” he answered. +“I kind of hate to leave ma, though, and +the kids.” +</p> +<p> +Tom slapped him on the shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“Sure you do,” he said. “But it’s so you can +come back a husky, well man, to look out for ’em +better than ever. Don’t you forget that, old scout!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span><a name='chIV' id='chIV'></a>CHAPTER IV—Tom and Joe Cross the Continent With Their Faces Glued to the Car Window and Reach the Rocky Mountains</h2> +<p> +Neither Tom nor Joe had ever been West +before, even as far as Chicago. As soon as +they had changed cars to the through train, not far +from their home town, each armed with a ticket +about a yard and a half long, and got settled in +their seats in the sleeping car, they glued themselves +to the windows, and watched the country. There +was something new to see every minute—the Berkshire +Hills, the Hudson River at Albany, the great +factories at Schenectady, the Mohawk River and the +Erie Canal, Utica, Syracuse, Rochester, Buffalo. +They slept soundly that night, and woke up as they +were passing along the southern shore of Lake +Michigan. In Chicago they had to change cars +again, to another station, and they had time, after +seeing that their baggage was transferred, to walk +around a little, among the high buildings, and out to +the lake front. +</p> +<p> +“It’s an awful dirty place, strikes me,” said Joe. +“All the buildings look as if somebody had spilled +soot over ’em.” +</p> +<p> +“I guess somebody has,” Tom answered. “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +guess they burn soft coal here. The air’s full of it. +Wait till we get to the Rockies, though; there’s the +air!” +</p> +<p> +The trip from Chicago to St. Paul was even more +interesting than the first stage, because after a while +the train followed the bank of the Mississippi River +(the scouts had a railroad folder with a map spread +out in their seat, to see where they were every minute), +and there was something thrilling to both of +them about the first sight of the great river, which +they had heard about all their lives. +</p> +<p> +“Say, it’s yellow, all right,” Joe exclaimed. “I’d +rather go swimming in our old hole back home, I +guess. It ain’t so awful big, either.” +</p> +<p> +“Not way up here. We’re a thousand miles from +the mouth. But you’d better not try to jump it, even +here—not till you get well,” Tom laughed. +</p> +<p> +At St. Paul they changed once more, for the final +train, the trans-continental limited which would take +them right through to the Park. +</p> +<p> +“Golly, we won’t see any of Minnesota,” Tom +complained. “It’ll be dark while we go through +that. And look at all those lakes we pass.” He +pointed to the map. +</p> +<p> +“Well, there has to be night as well as day out +here, just like home. I guess we can’t do anything +about it,” said Joe. “I’m kind o’ glad to sleep, at +that.” +</p> +<p> +“Poor old Joe, I forget you get tired,” Tom cried, +penitently. “Seems to me I <em>never</em> want to go to +sleep, with so much to see!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’m not tired any more,—just sleepy,” Joe +said, bravely. But Tom saw he was tired, and +called the porter to make up the berths. +</p> +<p> +They woke up in the prairie country of North +Dakota—or, rather, Spider did. He was sleeping +in the upper berth, of course, so Joe could have all +the air possible, and he climbed down as quietly as +he could and went into the observation car to see +where they were. It was bright sunlight, almost as +it would be at home at eight o’clock, yet his watch +told him it was only a little after four. He looked +out of the window on a strange land—on the prairies +about which he had read all his life and never seen +before. He had been disappointed in the Mississippi +River, but there was no disappointment here. They +were more wonderful than he had ever dreamed—just +one endless green sea of growing wheat stretching +to the horizon, without a hill or a valley, as flat +as the floor of the ocean. Indeed, they looked like +a green ocean, with the small houses, the big red +barns and silos, the little groves of trees behind the +barns for a windbreak, rising like islands every mile +or so. The whole world here seemed to be grain. +Everything was under cultivation, there were no trees +at all except the groves planted beside the farmhouses, +mile after mile as far as the eye could see to the far +horizon rolled the sea of young wheat, or else the +golden stubble where the winter crop had been +harvested. +</p> +<p> +For the first time, Tom understood what men +mean when they speak of “the great wheat fields +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +of the West,” for the first time he realized the bigness +of America. He wanted to go wake Joe at +once, and if Joe hadn’t been sick, he certainly would +have done so. As it was, he let him sleep till six, +and then he couldn’t stand it any longer, and shook +him awake. +</p> +<p> +“Joe! we’re on the prairie!” he cried. +</p> +<p> +All that day, mile after mile, they traveled through +the wheat, with never a break in the vast monotony +of the level land, the endless procession of houses +and barns far off, like islands in the green sea. The +sun did not set till late, and even at nine o’clock they +could read on the back platform of the observation +car, as the prairie turned dusky, and in the west the +lingering sunset was like a sunset over the sea. +</p> +<p> +“My, it’s been a wonderful day!” Joe sighed, as +they went to bed. “I feel as if I’d just been soaked +in <em>bigness</em>. I guess the Rockies aren’t any bigger +than these prairies. But what gets me, though, is +how the kids here go sliding in winter.” +</p> +<p> +A man on the platform beside them laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Say, I never saw a toboggan till I went East +after I was twenty-one years old,” he said. “But +I’ve seen some drifts that were twenty feet high, and +that’s quite a hill for us.” +</p> +<p> +The next morning Tom again was the first awake, +and he hurried out to see the prairie once more—but +there was no prairie. The world looked exactly as +if there had come a great wind or earthquake in the +night and kicked the calm prairie sea up into waves. +There were still no trees, only a great expanse of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +grayish grass and wild flowers, but you couldn’t see +far from the train in any direction, because the land +was so cut up with the billows, little rounded hills +and earth waves maybe fifty feet high. This was +the cattle country now, and every little while a +rough log cabin and log stables, half dug out of the +side of a bank, would appear beside the track, and +there would be cattle and horses grazing over the +slopes. Again Spider waked Joe, and they watched +for a cowboy, but none appeared. +</p> +<p> +As they were eating an early breakfast, the train +seemed to be running into more level prairie country +again, though it never settled back into the really +flat prairies. Presently they stopped at a little town, +with a single street of low wooden and brick stores +and houses, and no trees, and the two scouts got out +to stretch their legs. The first thing they saw as +they alighted was a cowboy! Clad in a flannel +shirt, with big black fur chaps down his legs and a +wide-brimmed felt hat mysteriously sticking on his +head, he came dashing up about a mile a minute, +kicking up a tremendous dust, and pulling his horse +down with a quick sweep that stopped him exactly +against the platform. The boys were so interested +in him that it was not till they were getting aboard +again, at the conductor’s shout, that Joe looked to +the west, and cried, “Spider, quick! Look there!” +</p> +<p> +Tom followed his finger, and, lo! there they were, +the Rocky Mountains! As far to the north, as far +to the south, as the eye could see stretched the great, +blue procession of towering peaks, dazzling white +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +with great patches of snow on summits and shoulders, +and seemingly only a few miles away. +</p> +<p> +“And we could have seen ’em <em>hours</em> ago, if we’d +only been looking ahead,” Joe complained, as they +took their seats on the observation platform. “They +can’t be more’n ten miles off now.” +</p> +<p> +A big, heavy man who was sitting there laughed +loudly. +</p> +<p> +“Guess you ain’t never been out here before, have +you?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“No, we never have.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, this train’s making thirty miles an hour, +and we got three hours to go yet before we get to +them hills,” he went on. “You chaps remind me of +a story, about a friend o’ mine who was prospectin’ +up here before the government made a park out o’ +Glacier. An Englishman came along one day, and +he started out to walk to the base o’ one o’ them +mountains before breakfast, so my friend, bein’ just +naturally curious, allowed he’d go along too. Fust, +though, he sneaked out and got a bite o’ grub. +Well, they walked and walked till along about ten +o’clock, and the mountain not gettin’ any nearer. +By’mby they come to a brook a baby could have +jumped, and the Englishman started to peel off his +clothes. +</p> +<p> +“‘What in blazes be you goin’ to do?’ asked my +friend. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well,’ said the bally Britisher, ‘that <em>looks</em> like a +brook, but I ain’t taking no chances.’” +</p> +<p> +Tom and Joe laughed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ve always heard you could see awfully plain +out here,” said Tom. “It must bother you at first +sighting a gun.” +</p> +<p> +“I reckon it does bother a stranger. I seen fellers +sight for a goat at four hundred yards, when he was +a clean eight hundred, and kick up the dust on the +rocks twenty feet below him.” +</p> +<p> +“Have you hunted goats?” the boys demanded. +</p> +<p> +“What I’ve not hunted, <em>ain’t</em>,” said the man. “I +don’t know what folks want goats for, though. +They’re the hardest work to get, and no good when +you get ’em. A bighorn, now!” +</p> +<p> +“What’s a bighorn?” asked Joe. +</p> +<p> +The man looked at him in profound surprise. “By +glory, don’t you know what a bighorn is?” he demanded. +“Where do you come from, anyhow? A +bighorn’s a Rocky Mountain sheep, the old ram of +the flock, with horns fifty inches long that curl around +in a circle, and he’s the handsomest, finest, proudest +lookin’ critter God Almighty ever made. Wait till +you see one!” +</p> +<p> +“Do you think we can see one in the Park this +summer?” the boys asked. +</p> +<p> +“If you climb up a cliff about seven thousand feet +and make a noise like a bunch o’ grass, I reckon +maybe you can,” said the stranger. +</p> +<p> +The next three hours were about the longest the +boys had ever spent. They went back into the +sleeper as soon as the berths were moved out of the +way and they could sit at the window, and with their +faces glued to the pane strained their eyes ahead to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +see the mountains. Whenever the road made a +curve, they could see them plainly, a vast, sawtooth +range of blue peaks, some of them sharp like pyramids, +some of them rounded into domes, marching +down out of the north and stretching away to the +south as far as the eye could see. Not only were +they bigger mountains than the scouts had ever seen, +even on a trip the year before to the White Mountains +in New Hampshire, but all over them, on their +summits, in great patches on their sides, sometimes +quite covering an entire peak, were great fields of +snow. Here it was about the 4th of July, with +flowers blooming in the grass beside the track and a +blazing hot sun in the heavens—and the mountains +just out there covered with vast fields of snow! +</p> +<p> +“Gee, I wish the old engineer’d put on some +steam!” sighed Joe. +</p> +<p> +“I wish he would,” Tom answered. “But I guess +that snow ain’t all going to melt before we get there. +Say, Joe, why do you suppose that range goes right +up out of the prairie without any foot-hills? Remember, +when we went to the White Mountains we got +into smaller mountains long before we reached Washington? +They went up like steps. But here the +Rockies just jump right up out of the plain.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know—wish I’d studied geology. Maybe +the guy who had the friend who walked with the +Englishman can tell us.” +</p> +<p> +Tom shook his head. “I have a hunch he knows +more about goats than geology,” said he. “Maybe +we can get a book at the Park.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +</p> +<p> +The mountains were now getting perceptibly +nearer. They were becoming less blue, the snow +showed more plainly on their sharp peaks and great +shoulders, and the boys began to pack up their handbags +and get ready to disembark. +</p> +<p> +Their rear-platform friend, coming through the +car, stopped and laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t go trying to jump no brooks, now,” he +said. +</p> +<p> +“Sure—we’ll throw a stone first,” Spider answered. +“Can you tell us why the Rocky Mountains haven’t +any foot-hills?” +</p> +<p> +The stranger seemed to take this very seriously. +“They did have once,” said he, “but they was all +dug away for the gold and copper.” +</p> +<p> +Then he passed on, still laughing. +</p> +<p> +“He’s a good scout,” laughed Joe. +</p> +<p> +“But I’d hate to have him for a geology teacher,” +Tom answered. +</p> +<p> +The mountains didn’t seem much nearer than they +had looked for half an hour when the train finally +rolled up to the Glacier Park station and stopped. +The boys, together with several tourists, got off, and +the minute they stepped on the platform they felt +how much cooler it was than back in St. Paul, and +how much purer the air. +</p> +<p> +“Take a big lungful, Joey,” Tom cried. “This +is the real old ozone!” +</p> +<p> +The station is at the gate of the mountains, where +the railroad enters the pass which takes it through +the range. The mountains here do not look very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +high, for you are so close under that you do not +see much of them. The boys looked up at a ragged +wall to the north, covered first with fir timber and +then with snow patches on the reddish rocks. Behind +them to the east, they looked out over the rolling +plains. Close by the station was a big hotel, +several stories high, but built entirely of huge fir +logs. Even the tall columns in front were single logs. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose I go up there and report,” said Tom. +“Let’s see if our baggage is all here, first” +</p> +<p> +They found the baggage on the platform, and set +out for the hotel, passing on the way an Indian +tepee, with pictures painted on the outside, and +smoke ascending from the peak. This was the home +of old Chief Three Bears, the boys learned, a Blackfeet +Indian who lives here by the hotel in summer, +and welcomes arriving guests. He was coming +down the path, in fact, as the boys walked up, a +tall Indian, over six feet, and looking taller still +because of his great feathered head-dress. He was +very old, but still erect, though his face was covered +all over with tiny wrinkles. +</p> +<p> +The two scouts stopped and saluted him. +</p> +<p> +Old Three Bears smiled at them, and grunted, +“Okeea” (with the accent on the first syllable, and +the <em>ee</em> and <em>a</em> sounds slid together). Then he held +his blanket around him with his left hand, and putting +out his right, solemnly shook both boys by their +hands. +</p> +<p> +“Say, the old Chief’s got a big fist, all right,” said +Joe, as they went on. “I’ll bet he was strong once.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +</p> +<p> +“He must ’a’ been good looking, too,” said Tom. +“I didn’t know Indians were so big and—and sort +of noble looking.” +</p> +<p> +They now entered the great lobby of the hotel, +which, like the outside, was all made of fir logs, with +tremendous trunks, bark and all, used as the columns +clear to the fourth story. Hunting out the manager, +they learned that they were to take the motor bus +for Many Glacier Hotel in fifteen minutes, and they +just had time to go to the news stand and secure a +government map of the Park and a government report +about its geology, before turning in their baggage +checks and climbing aboard the bus, a four-seated +motor something like a “Seeing New York” +automobile. This bus was full, three on a seat, and +a moment later the driver cranked his engine, gave +a toot on his horn, and they were off. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span><a name='chV' id='chV'></a>CHAPTER V—The Scouts Learn Why the Rocky Mountains Have No Foot-Hills and Arrive at Many Glacier</h2> +<p> +They had about fifty miles to go, northward, +straight away from the railroad. It was a +clear, lovely day, the air so transparent that you +could apparently walk to the top of one of those +mountains in an hour or two. +</p> +<p> +“Gee, I know now how that Englishman felt,” +Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +The road was not what would be called a good +road, or even a decent road, in the East, as it was +only a track in the grass, full of sand and sharp +little stones; it did not lead into the mountains at +all; it ran along just to the east of the great range, +over the bare, rolling hills of the prairie, so that from +the motor bus you could see the entire mountain +wall, mile after mile. What a wonderful wall it +was, too! It sprang right up out of this rolling +green prairie, a great procession of peaks, and now +they were so near the boys could see they were not +blue at all, but every color of the rainbow, with red +predominating. Up their sides for a way stretched +timber—all evergreen, and not very big—and then +came the rocks—red rocks, yellow rocks, gray rocks, +white rocks, in long horizontal strata, and in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +ravines and hollows on the slopes great patches of +snow stretching down from the snow caps on the +summits like vast white fingers. +</p> +<p> +As they sped along, every eye in the motor fixed +on the mountains, a man in the front seat pointed +ahead to a huge red mountain which stood out eastward +from the range, a noble mountain shaped like +a tremendous dome. +</p> +<p> +“That’s old Rising Wolf,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“Rising Wolf!” said Tom. “That’s a good name. +It’s Indian, I suppose?” +</p> +<p> +“It’s Indian, but it was the name of a white man,” +the first speaker replied. “It was the name the +Indians gave to Hugh Monroe. He’s buried almost +under the shadow of that mountain. Pretty good +monument, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t believe anybody’ll move it,” Joe laughed. +“Who was Hugh Monroe?” +</p> +<p> +“Hugh Monroe,” said the man on the front seat, +who evidently knew a lot about the Park, “was +probably the first white man who ever saw those +mountains. He was born in Montreal in 1798. He +entered the Hudson Bay Company when he was +only seventeen, about as old as you boys, I guess, +and was sent way out into the Blackfeet Indian +country on the Saskatchewan River. Monroe was +assigned to live with the Indians, and learn their language, +and the next winter—1816—he went southward +with them, following along near the base of the +range, crossed what’s now the boundary line, and +came here. He even went on farther, to the Yellowstone. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +Monroe stayed with the Blackfeet all the rest +of his life. He married a squaw, and got an Indian +name—Makwiipowaksin—or Rising Wolf——” +</p> +<p> +“I guess I’ll always say it in English,” Spider +laughed. +</p> +<p> +“After a while,” the man went on, laughing too, +“the Blackfeet came down here to live. We are +going through part of their reservation now, and the +whole Park was bought from them by the government. +This was all their hunting ground, and right +here, in Two Medicine Valley that you see leading +in beside Rising Wolf Mountain, and in the Cut +Bank and St. Mary’s Valley we’ll soon come to, +Hugh Monroe hunted moose and elk and buffalo +and silver tips, and he killed sheep and goats up on +the slopes. He used to tell me how he had a cabin +by St. Mary Lake (we get there in an hour) once, +and had to stand off a raid of hostile Indians for two +days—he and his wife and children. He’s often told +me, too, how he and the Blackfeet used to drive the +buffalo over the Cut Bank River cliffs. The buffalo +would stampede, and not seeing the cliffs ahead, +would all go crashing over.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>He</em> told you?” cried Joe, incredulous. “Say, +how old are you, anyhow? I thought you said he +came here in 1816—that’s a hundred years ago.” +</p> +<p> +Again the man laughed. “Rising Wolf was +buried in 1896,” he answered. “He was ninety-eight +years old. We folks out in the Montana +mountains” [he pronounced Montana with the first +<em>a</em> short, as in <em>cat</em>] “live a good while, son. It’s the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +air. I can remember him well, and a fine old figure +he was, a real pioneer, like Daniel Boone and the +chaps you’ve read about in school. Yes sir, he’s got +a good monument.” +</p> +<p> +And the man looked up again at the great red +dome of Rising Wolf Mountain, towering over them. +</p> +<p> +“Ask him about there being no foot-hills,” Joe +whispered, nudging Tom. +</p> +<p> +“Can you tell us why there aren’t any foot-hills to +this range?” Tom asked. “Of course, all this +prairie here is rolling and high, but it’s not really +little mountains. The main range just jumps right +up without any warning.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I’ve been wondering about that, too,” put +in a man on the seat behind the boys. “I wish you +would explain it.” +</p> +<p> +The man on the front seat laughed. “I seem to +be the Park encyclopædia,” said he. “Well, I +hunted in these mountains before the government +ever thought of making a park of ’em, and I’m glad +to tell you all I can. I’ll tell you just as it was told +to me by one of the government chaps that came out +here—a scientist. He was looking for prehistoric +animal fossils up in the Belly River Cañon, and he +sure knew a lot. It was this way—all the prairies, +he said, and all the land west of here, was once the +bottom of the sea, or a lake, or something, and +finally it pushed up and became land, and then, as +the earth crust went on contracting, it cracked.” +</p> +<p> +The man now put his hands together, spread flat +side by side, and pushed them one against the other. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +</p> +<p> +“The crack formed from north to south,” he said, +“and as the contraction went on something had to +give, just as something has to give if I push my +hands hard enough. See——” +</p> +<p> +He pushed harder yet, and his left hand slid up +over the back of his right. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what happened here. One edge of the +earth crust, thousands of feet thick, rose right up +and slid east a dozen miles or more, and then +stopped. I believe the scientific fellers call that a +fault. They call the eastern edge of this range the +Lewis overthrust, because that’s where the overlapping +stopped. Look—you can see all along here +the precipices where the crust stuck out over the +prairie, and all those parallel lines of different colored +rocks are the different layers in the old crust. +They find the skeletons and fossils exposed in ’em, +which would be buried two or three thousand feet if +you had to dig down.” +</p> +<p> +“But what I don’t see,” Joe said, “is why the top +isn’t just level? Why are there any peaks and +valleys?” +</p> +<p> +“It happened a few million years ago, son,” the +man laughed. “I suppose things were some broken +up at the first crack, and since then glaciers have +come grinding down, and rains have fallen, and +snows melted, and frosts cracked, and the ice and +water have washed out cañons and carved the peaks. +The high point was right where the undercrust +stopped, back a dozen miles or more from the edge +of the overthrust, so that became the Divide. That’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +pretty near level in places even to-day. But east +and west the running water has carved out long +valleys and left harder rock sticking up as peaks. +Up farther north old Chief Mountain sticks right out +into the prairie, a tower of limestone, with everything +else around it carved right away.” +</p> +<p> +“I get you,” said Joe. “I bet I’d have studied +geography harder if I’d had these mountains to look +at while I was doing it!” +</p> +<p> +The man in the seat behind laughed. “There +must have been some shake up when the crack +formed, and these six thousand feet of crust came up +over.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d rather been some place else than standin’ +right on ’em,” said the man in front. +</p> +<p> +The motor presently rolled through rather thick +pine timber, up over a high ridge, and down into a +valley. +</p> +<p> +“That’s Divide Mountain to the left,” said their +guide. “Behind it is Triple Divide Peak. From the +peak, the water flows to three oceans—west to the +Pacific, east to the Missouri River, the Mississippi +and the Gulf of Mexico, northeast to Canada and +Hudson Bay. From here on all the brooks we cross +are bound for Hudson Bay and the Arctic Ocean.” +</p> +<p> +In a short time they came to the foot of a lovely +lake, and stopped at a group of buildings, built like +Swiss chalets, on the shore. +</p> +<p> +“St. Mary Lake,” their impromptu guide said. +“A lot of people think it’s the most beautiful lake in +the world, but you have to get to the upper end to see +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +its full beauty. It runs twelve miles, right up to the +foot of the Great Divide. That’s Going-to-the-Sun +Mountain you can just see the peak of on the +right.” +</p> +<p> +The scouts looked far up the dancing, wonderfully +green-blue waters of the lake, to the tip of a vast +pyramid of rock, blue with distance. +</p> +<p> +“Is that an Indian name? It’s pretty,” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“No,” the man answered. “A French missionary +priest, who came here with Hugh Monroe back +in the 1830’s named the lake St. Mary Lake, and +then he went on up it, and over the pass to the west, +into the setting sun. So Monroe named the mountain +Going-to-the-Sun Mountain. But, of course, it +was really Indian in a way, because if Monroe hadn’t +lived with the Indians he wouldn’t have thought of +such a poetic name.” +</p> +<p> +The boys were still only half-way to their destination, +and the bus soon started off again, still keeping +on the prairie, along the eastern edge of the +range, and passing along the shore of Lower St. +Mary Lake for many miles. At last the road turned +sharp west, and began to climb. It climbed into a +deep, narrow valley which led right up into the +tumbled mass of red and gray and green peaks and +rock precipices. +</p> +<p> +“This is the last stage,” said the man. “We are +going up the Swift Current Valley.” +</p> +<p> +The road was very narrow, and it swung around +ledges where there was a massive wall above them +on one side and a sheer drop, without protection, on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +the other. The bus had a siren horn, which the +driver set going three hundred yards before he +reached one of these curves. As they climbed, the +great mountainsides seemed to come nearer and +nearer, and at last they towered over their heads, +some of them almost perpendicular, and composed +of layers of jagged red rock. It was not long before +they crossed the tumbling green water of Swift Current +River on a bridge close to a foaming waterfall, +and brought up in front of a large hotel on the shore +of a small green lake. +</p> +<p> +This was the end of their journey. The scouts +got out, and went around to the lake in front of the +hotel. Here the full view was spread before them, +and Tom whistled, while Joe gasped. +</p> +<p> +Right in front of them lay Lake McDermott, +perhaps a mile long and half a mile wide, the water +a beautiful green, for all the lakes in the Park are +fed from glaciers, and glacier water is green in color. +This lake was surrounded by a fringe of pines. Out +of the farther side sprung up a cone-shaped mountain, +almost out of the water. To the left and right +of this peak, called Sharp’s Peak, and only two or +three miles behind it, rose the abrupt head wall of +the Continental Divide itself, a vast gray precipice, +with great peaks thrusting up from it, and gleaming +white snow-fields lying like gigantic sheets spread +out to dry wherever there was a place for them to +cling. Behind the hotel, on both sides, nearer mountains +went up precipitously. +</p> +<p> +“It’s some big!” Joe exclaimed. “Say—it—it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +kind of scares me! Think of climbing one of those +cliffs!” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll get used to it,” Tom declared. “And +we’re going to climb ’em! We’re going to get +photographs of a goat, and see this old Park, top +and bottom.” +</p> +<p> +“Gosh, it looks all top to me,” poor Joe replied. +</p> +<p> +“Come on—we’ll find our boss, and get our tent +pitched, and some grub into us—and we’ll feel +better,” Tom cried cheerfully. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span><a name='chVI' id='chVI'></a>CHAPTER VI—Tom Becomes Boss of the Tepee Camp, and the Scouts Pitch Their Tent in the Evergreens</h2> +<p> +Just around the lower end of the lake from the +great Many Glacier Hotel, perched up on a little +slope, were two or three chalets, like those at St. +Mary Lake, where tourists could stay at less expense +than at the hotel. A little farther along, directly on +the shore of the lake, the boys saw a group of tall +white tepees. +</p> +<p> +“There’s our home, I guess—if I get the job,” +said Tom. “We won’t have far to haul the water, +anyhow.” +</p> +<p> +Tom led Joe into the big lobby of the hotel, which +was supported to the roof by huge tree trunks for +pillars, and found that he ought to report to the +manager of the chalet camp, so he and Joe walked +back over the bridge by the falls, and climbed to the +office of the chalets. +</p> +<p> +“So you are Seymour, eh?” the manager said. +He was a big, merry looking man, with a high, +squeaky voice, and was always bustling about. But +the boys liked him at once. “I don’t know whether +you’re old enough to manage the tepee camp or not. +Can you cut wood?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +“Can you make a bed?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“Can you count change?” +</p> +<p> +“When I’ve got any.” +</p> +<p> +The man laughed, his large shoulders shaking up +and down. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ll try you a week—I’ve got nobody else. +What’s your friend going to do?” +</p> +<p> +“I brought a tent of my own,” Tom explained, +“and I thought I could pitch it just into the woods +somewhere, out of sight, and we’d live in that, and +Joe’s going to get our meals, so’s I can give all my +time to looking after the tepees—couldn’t we do +that?” +</p> +<p> +The man turned to Joe. “Are you a good +cook?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“I can cook camp stuff all right, and make bread, +and things like that,” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Can you throw a diamond hitch?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know—I never tried,” Joe replied. +</p> +<p> +The man tipped back his head and squeaked with +mirth again. “That’s like the man who said he +didn’t know whether he could play the violin or not—he’d +never tried,” said he. “My boy, it takes +years and years of patient practice to learn to throw +a diamond hitch. But if you only could throw one, +you could probably help us out this summer as a +camp cook on lots of expeditions. We are going to +be hard up for cooks this year.” +</p> +<p> +“I bet I can learn!” cried Joe. “I can tie all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +kinds of knots,—the Becket hitch, and the bowline, +and the false reef and the fisherman’s bend, and the +sheep-shank and the timber hitch——” +</p> +<p> +“Whoa!” the man laughed. “Well, we’ll see. +Come on now, and get your tent and stuff, and we’ll +go over and look at the camp. I suppose, though, +you’d like some grub first, wouldn’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“I could eat a couple of prunes,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +“I got space for an olive and an oyster cracker, +myself,” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Well, pile in there and get a bite,” the man said, +pointing to a small room where the few helpers he +needed in the chalets were eating. The scouts +needed no second invitation, after their fifty mile +motor ride, and they fell on the food hungrily. +</p> +<p> +“Say, Big Bertha’s all to the good,” Joe whispered +to Tom, “if he does talk like a lady.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure he is—he can’t help havin’ a squeaky voice,” +Tom answered. “He’s treating us white, all right.” +</p> +<p> +As soon as they were partially filled up—(they ate +until they dared not ask for more)—the scouts went +back to the hotel, with two borrowed wheelbarrows, +and got their trunks and luggage. Then Big Bertha +joined them, and they all three continued to the +tepee camp, which was pitched between the trail and +the shore of the lake. There were six or eight +tepees, of stout white canvas stretched on a frame +of lodge pole pines. Each tepee had a wooden +floor and one of them contained a few cooking implements +and a small cook-stove. The rest were for +sleeping, and contained a couple of cots apiece. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +</p> +<p> +“Now, this camp is used mostly by tourists who +are going through the Park on foot,” Big Bertha explained. +“You are to charge them fifty cents a +night per bed. They get the use of the range and +cooking utensils free, and they’re supposed to wash +’em, but they probably won’t. Your job is to keep +the camp clean, have wood always cut up for fires, +make the beds, change the linen (you get that from +me), collect the fees, attend to the latrine carefully, +and—oh, just run the place as if it was the Waldorf-Astoria! +The store where they buy grub, and you +get yours, is up at the chalets.” +</p> +<p> +“I get you,” said Tom. “Doesn’t look as if it +had been used much this year.” +</p> +<p> +“It hasn’t. There’s still so much snow on the +passes that not many hikers have been over. But +they’ll be along in a week or so, though. You go +ahead and pitch your own tent now, for Joe—somewhere +out there in the woods. I guess if you boys +are scouts you know how to do it right.” +</p> +<p> +“Is the lake good to swim in?” Joe asked. +</p> +<p> +Big Bertha looked at him with a funny expression. +“Sure,” he said. “Try it, after you’ve got +your tent up! Oh, and say, look out for porcupines +at night, boys.” +</p> +<p> +Only a few feet beyond the tepees the heavy +woods began, not high woods, but a thick stand of +fir about thirty or forty feet tall. The scouts took +the tent and baggage in far enough to be out of +sight of the camp, and screened from the view of +the hotel across the lake, but still close to the shore. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +They found a dry, well-drained, level spot, threw a +rope over it from tree to tree, and slung the tent. +Then they cut pegs, fastened it down, set up their +cots inside, and while Joe was making the beds, +Spider hauled a lot of rocks up from the edge of the +lake and built a fire pit. +</p> +<p> +“I s’pose it’s going to rain sometimes,” he said. +“We ought to have a shelter over the kitchen.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t look now as if it ever rained here,” Joe +answered, from the tent. “I’ll build a lean-to over +the kitchen while you’re running the camp. Gosh, +I’m goin’ to feel like an awful grafter, just doing +nothing, while you’re working all the time.” +</p> +<p> +“Aw, cut it out,” Tom answered. “You’ll be +cooking for me, won’t you? You’re my housekeeper. +I’m going to call you wifey.” +</p> +<p> +“If you do, I’ll put chestnut burrs in your bed,” +Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Where are you going to get the chestnuts?” +asked Tom. “I don’t see anything around here but +evergreen. Come to think of it, I’ve not seen a +single hardwood all day.” +</p> +<p> +“Golly, that’s so,” Joe answered. “I don’t believe +I have. It’s going to be hard cooking with +nothing but pine. How’s a feller going to get a bed +of coals?” +</p> +<p> +“I guess he isn’t. But I’ll see what can be +done.” +</p> +<p> +Tom went into the woods with one of the axes, +while Joe busied himself about camp, making a +shelf on a tree for the provisions, getting the trunks +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +stowed away under the cots, rigging up a rough +table out of two pieces of board he went back to the +tepee camp and hunted up, and planning for a +lean-to to be built later as a shelter while cooking. +</p> +<p> +Tom came back presently, his arms loaded with +dry wood. +</p> +<p> +“All soft,” he said, stacking it near the fire-pot. +“There’s not a hardwood in the forest anywhere. +Come on, now, we’ve got to get a supply cut for the +camp, in case anybody comes. If they don’t come, +we can cook on the stove there, I guess. It’ll be +easier than here.” +</p> +<p> +“And not so much fun,” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +The two boys worked industriously for the next +hour, Tom doing the heavy chopping, and got a +good pile of wood stacked up beside the stove in the +camp. It was nearly five o’clock now, and still no +one had appeared, so they went back to their tent, +being hot and tired, put on a set of summer underclothes +for bathing suits, and ran down to the lake. +The bottom dropped away rather gradually, over +rough stones, so they could not dive. Tom was the +first in. He went in up to his knees, and emitted a +yell that echoed from the wall of pines across the +water. +</p> +<p> +“Wow!” he cried, “sufferin’ snakes!” +</p> +<p> +“Is it cold?” said Joe, still standing on the shore. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, it ain’t cold! Oh, no, it’s warm as a hot +potato!” +</p> +<p> +Spider took another step forward and slipped into +a hole nearly up to his waist, lost his balance, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +went under. He came up spitting water, and made +a wild leap for the shore. +</p> +<p> +“You keep out o’ this, Joe,” he spluttered. “It’s +too cold for you to go in. Talk about glacier water—not +for me!” +</p> +<p> +“I want to try it,” pleaded Joe. +</p> +<p> +“No, you don’t!”—and Spider grabbed him by +the arm and dragged him back. +</p> +<p> +As Tom peeled off his suit and reached for a towel, +Joe ran for their little camp mirror. +</p> +<p> +“Look at yourself,” he said. +</p> +<p> +Tom looked. He was as red as a boiled lobster +from head to foot. +</p> +<p> +“It’s a wonder there ain’t icicles on my elbows,” +he laughed. “You heat yourself some water on the +fire, Joe, if you want a bath!” +</p> +<p> +Which was exactly what Joe did. +</p> +<p> +They were hardly dressed again, and beginning to +prepare supper, when they heard a great clatter of +hoofs and shouting coming down the trail. They ran +through their fringe of woods, coming out on the +trail a little way above the camp, and galloping +toward them they saw a procession on horseback, +shouting, laughing, screaming. At the head rode a +cowboy, well in the lead, and holding his horse back. +It was a big, bay horse, with a white star in its forehead, +and full of ginger. The cowboy wore white +fur chaps on his legs, and spurs, and a broad-brimmed +felt hat. Behind him came another guide, also in +cowboy costume, and then almost a dozen men and +women, evidently tourists. Some of them knew how +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +to ride, but more of them evidently did not. The +women were bouncing around in their saddles and +screaming, but nobody stopped. The race for home +had begun, and the horses intended to finish at a +gallop. As the leader thundered past the two boys, +they saw with admiration how firmly he sat in his +saddle, like a part of the horse, and looked calmly +back over his shoulder with a laugh. Then they saw +him touch the horse with his spurs, and it sprang +forward with a bound, while the rest came tearing on +behind. As one woman passed the scouts, her last +hairpin flew out, and her hair came tumbling down +in a braid, which began bobbing up and down on +her back. +</p> +<p> +“Gee, that’s the life!” Tom cried. “We simply <em>got</em> +to learn to ride horseback, Joe. I bet they’ve been +over a pass, or something, to-day.” +</p> +<p> +“I bet some of ’em are going to eat off the mantelpiece +to-morrow,” Joe replied. +</p> +<p> +They went back by way of the camp, to see if any +hikers had arrived, and then got their supper, a rather +smoky job, with only soft wood to cook by. But they +were too hungry to mind the smoke. After supper +they walked around to the great hotel, which was +not yet lighted up, for though it was now seven +o’clock, it was still broad daylight, and bought +souvenir post-cards to send home to their parents +and the other scouts. As yet the hotel had few +guests, for the season had hardly begun, the snow +had lain so late on the passes that year, but there +was music and bustle about the place, just the same, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +and another party on horseback was just galloping +in, so the boys could watch the tired riders dismount, +and the cowboy guides drive the horses away, down +the road to their night feeding on the lower meadows. +Joe longed to ask one of those cowboys to +show him what that mysterious thing, a diamond +hitch, was, but he did not have the nerve. +</p> +<p> +It was still quite light enough to read a newspaper +when they returned to camp. Nobody had come, +and as it had been a hard day, and Tom saw Joe was +tired, he gave orders to turn in, though the lights in +the great hotel across the lake, under the vast wall +of Allen Mountain, were just twinkling on. +</p> +<p> +“Seems foolish to go to bed by daylight,” he +said, “but it’s nine o’clock, and you’re a sick little +wifey.” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll be a sick little hubby, in about a minute +and a quarter,” Joe retorted, swinging at him. +“Still, I feel as if I could sleep, daylight or not.” +</p> +<p> +“Come here,” Tom went on, “and let’s see how +your old temperature is. If you’ve got a fever to-night +it means you got to stay still for the next week, +and rest up.” +</p> +<p> +He shook down the little clinical thermometer +Dr. Meyer had given him, and put it under Joe’s +tongue. “Smoke that a while,” he laughed. +</p> +<p> +After a couple of minutes he took it out again and +inspected it. +</p> +<p> +“Ninety-eight,” said he. “That’s normal, ain’t it? +Hooray, old Joey, no temperature even after this +day! I guess you’re getting better, all right.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +</p> +<p> +“Sure I am,” Joe laughed. “I’m going to climb +to the top of the Great Divide to-morrow!” +</p> +<p> +The night came on as they were getting ready to +bunk, and with it came a sudden coolness. +</p> +<p> +“I guess we’re going to be glad of these blankets, +after all,” Tom said, “and you won’t be sorry your +mother put in that puff.” +</p> +<p> +“You bet I won’t,” Joe answered, climbing into +his cot, and pulling the puff up about him. +</p> +<p> +Tom took a last look at the fire, at the still woods, +at the lake glimmering down through the trees, +picked up his sweater, which he had dropped on +the ground, and hung it idly over a log by the fire, +pulled the tent flap together, blew out the candle in +the camp lantern, and also crawled in. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Joe,” he said, “we’ve begun our life five +thousand feet up, at the feet of the glaciers.” +</p> +<p> +Joe’s answer was a snore. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span><a name='chVII' id='chVII'></a>CHAPTER VII—Joe Gets Acquainted with Porcupines, the Diamond Hitch, and Switchback Trails</h2> +<p> +Some hours later the boys were awakened by a +tremendous clatter just outside the tent. They +both sprang up and rushed out. It was pitch dark, +the last ember of the fire had died, and they could +see nothing. But they could hear something scampering +away in the underbrush. +</p> +<p> +“Is it a bear?” Joe whispered. “Gee, I wish +they’d let you have a gun in the Park!” +</p> +<p> +Tom jumped into the tent and lit the lantern. By +its dim rays, they saw what had made the clatter. +Half their little stock of canned goods and other +provisions had been knocked down off the shelf Joe +had built. +</p> +<p> +“I know—porcupines!” Spider cried. “Remember, +Big Bertha told us to look out for ’em.” +</p> +<p> +They carried their provisions back into the tent, +and went to sleep again. +</p> +<p> +Tom was the first up. Joe heard him muttering +and exclaiming outside the tent, and crawled out to +see what was the matter. +</p> +<p> +“Matter? Matter?” Spider shouted. “Look at +this—and this!” +</p> +<p> +He held up his sweater in one hand, and one of +the scout axes in the other. One entire sleeve of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +the sweater was gone, and the handle of the axe was +so chewed up that it was practically useless. +</p> +<p> +“Holy smoke, what did that?” +</p> +<p> +Before Tom could answer, there was a movement +in the undergrowth, and both boys sprang toward +it. There, sure enough, was the culprit—a fat porcupine, +surprised by their quick descent, and backing +away from them with every quill rigid and ready +for business. Tom grabbed a heavy stick, and was +about to hit it, when Joe stopped him. +</p> +<p> +“Wait a minute—I want to see it work,” he said. +“I want to see if they really throw their quills. You +keep him here.” +</p> +<p> +Joe quickly hunted up a rotten stick, and gingerly +poked it at the porcupine, which bit at the end +viciously, and filled it full of quills, but he certainly +didn’t “shoot” them. The stick had to touch them +first before they came out. +</p> +<p> +“There, now you see the story’s a fake,” Tom +cried, “so good-night, Pork,—you’ll pay for my +sweater, you beast, you!” +</p> +<p> +He brought his club down on the poor animal’s +head, and laid it out. +</p> +<p> +“I kind of hate to see him killed,” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“I hate to kill animals myself, but we got to keep +our sweaters and axes,” Tom answered. “We’ll +make an Indian belt, or something, of the quills, and +send it home to the kids.” +</p> +<p> +They were still talking about the porcupine as +they got breakfast. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t seem as though a woollen sweater sleeve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +and a wooden axe handle were exactly what you’d +call nourishing,” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“I’d rather have bacon,” Tom laughed. “He +looks fat, too.” +</p> +<p> +As they were speaking, they heard steps in the +woods, and a second later a tall, thin, tanned man in +a khaki-colored uniform, with leather riding gaiters +and a wide-brimmed felt hat, appeared in their little +clearing. The two scouts rose quickly, in surprise. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, boys,” the man said, as his blue eyes took +in them and every detail of the camp at a single +piercing glance, “goin’ to have porcupine for breakfast?” +</p> +<p> +“He’ll never have my sweater for breakfast +again!” Tom replied. +</p> +<p> +The man laughed—or, rather, he smiled. It was +really a kind of inside laugh, noiseless. Even his +voice was low, so you had to listen sharply to hear +what he was saying. +</p> +<p> +“They’ll eat the clothes off your back if you let +’em,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“But why do they eat such—such dry stuff? It’s +worse than patent breakfast food without cream,” +said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Salt,” the man replied. “They’ll eat anything +a man or a horse has touched, to get it salty with +perspiration—an axe handle, for instance. I knew a +lumber jack once who had a grudge against a feller, +so he put salt on his cabin roof, and the porcs came +in the night and ate the roof most off. There come +a rain the next day, too.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +</p> +<p> +The boys laughed. They wanted to ask their +visitor who he was, but didn’t see quite how to +bring it about. Finally Tom said, “Won’t—won’t +you have some breakfast?” +</p> +<p> +“Had mine,” the man answered. “Might take a +cup of coffee, though. Yours smells good.” +</p> +<p> +He sat down on the log which was serving the +boys as a chair, first easing his belt holster, which +held a 38-calibre automatic. +</p> +<p> +“He must be a Park Ranger,” Tom whispered to +Joe. “Nobody else can carry arms in the Park, +they say.” +</p> +<p> +Joe brought him a cup of coffee, and as he took it, +he said, “Well, boys, I hear you’re goin’ to look +after the tepee camp. Thought I’d come down to +inspect you. I’m the Ranger for this district. Mills +is my name. My cabin’s just up the trail a piece +toward Swift Current. Let me know if I can do +anything for you.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, sir,” said Joe. “Some time, if you—you’d——” +</p> +<p> +He hesitated, turning red at the boldness of his +demand. +</p> +<p> +The Ranger waited in silence, only keeping a pale +blue eye on his face, but a kindly eye. +</p> +<p> +“——if you’d show me how to throw a diamond +hitch.” +</p> +<p> +“Is that all?” said the Ranger, with one of his +silent laughs. “I thought you were goin’ to ask me +for a thousand dollars. I can show you the diamond +hitch ’most any time. I’m packing off to-day, about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +ten. Come around and get a lesson. Ride a horse, +either of you?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, we ride just a little—farm horses out to +plowing, and things like that,” Spider replied. +</p> +<p> +“I have an extra horse. Maybe one of you’ll +come along with me some day when you both ain’t +needed in the camp. If you can always make coffee +like this I’d like you along.” +</p> +<p> +“Joe’s the cook,” Tom said. “He can go any +time. It’s I who am running the camp. He’s just +loafing and getting well. He’s been sick.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Joe, you come out to my cabin at ten, and +you can see me throw a hitch,” the Ranger said, +getting up, “and ride up the trail with me a spell, +if you want.” +</p> +<p> +Joe’s eyes grew big with excitement. “I’ll be +there!” he cried. +</p> +<p> +The Ranger went back again, and the two scouts +looked at each other. +</p> +<p> +“Say, he’s some prince!” Joe exclaimed. “But +I don’t like to be getting the first ride ahead of you. +I wouldn’t do it, only if I learn to ride, and tie a +pack on, maybe I can get a job as cook.” +</p> +<p> +“Go to it, old scout,” Tom answered. “That’s +what we came here for.” +</p> +<p> +After breakfast Tom went over to the chalets to +report and to do some work around the camp, and +before ten o’clock Joe was at the Ranger’s log cabin. +</p> +<p> +Mills, the Ranger, had three horses out of the little +stable behind, and was putting a saddle on the +largest horse. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +</p> +<p> +“Go get the other saddle from the stable, and let’s +see you put it on your horse,” he said. +</p> +<p> +Joe brought the saddle, a regular western saddle, +with the high back and the horn in front, and did +his best to get it on. The Ranger watched him a +minute, and then showed him how to cinch it properly +and tight. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t be afraid to pull it hard,” he said. “The +old nag’ll lose some of his belly before he gets home, +and if you’ve not cinched it tight your saddle will +slip.” +</p> +<p> +Mills now put a saddle blanket on the third horse, +and then a pack saddle, which is a framework of +wood, arranged like a saddle underneath with a +cinch belt under the belly and a broad canvas belt +extending around the back and under the tail. +After this is put on the horse the wooden frame of +the saddle makes a kind of platform on each side to +rest the pack upon. The Ranger now brought out +his stuff—dunnage bags, an axe, blankets, a canvas +covering, and a long rope. +</p> +<p> +“You hold his head,” said he to Joe, “and talk to +him real kind, while I hang the bags on.” +</p> +<p> +One bag was hung on one side, one on the other, +to balance the pack, and then, while the horse tried +to do a one-step on Joe’s toes with his front legs, +and kick Mills in the stomach with his hind legs, the +Ranger threw the blankets on top, done up in a flat +roll, over the whole saddle, and covered them with +the tarpaulin. Finally, he took the long rope, which +Joe saw had a canvas band and strap on one end, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +and fastened this strap, like a cinch, around the +horse’s belly. +</p> +<p> +“Now,” said he, “we are ready to throw a hitch. +Come here and help. We’ll throw a double one, +because that’s stronger.” +</p> +<p> +Joe soon saw that the process consists of weaving +the rope back and forth under the sides of the saddle +and then crossways over the top, in such a way +that when it is done the strands of rope, from above, +would be seen to make a diamond. Each time the +rope was passed over to Mills, he took the end, braced +one foot against the horse, and pulled it taut. Joe +did the same on his side. +</p> +<p> +“Won’t I hurt the horse?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +The Ranger laughed. “I give you leave, if you +can,” he said. +</p> +<p> +When the rope was all used, Mills fastened the +end, went over the whole thing with his hand, testing +it to see if it was tight, and then finished by +giving the horse a resounding slap. +</p> +<p> +“That’s the way you have to finish,” he said, “or +the horse wouldn’t think you were through.” +</p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t think the horse would like to be +packed much,” Joe suggested. +</p> +<p> +“Never knew one that did,” Mills replied. “Lots +o’ times, while you’re throwing the hitch, that canvas +band under the tail works up and sort o’ tickles the +horse, and then, Oh, Boy, look out! Your plug’ll +buck, and a packhorse don’t reckon he’s done a real +good job o’ buckin’ till he’s covered about three +square acres of ground, and deposited canned beef, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +tea, syrup, blankets, axes, coffee-pots and a few other +things entirely over said area. Then, when you +cinch him tight before you start, too, he’s likely to +feel that’s goin’ to interfere with his digestion, and +start buckin’. A packhorse is an ornery critter.” +</p> +<p> +But this horse, now he was packed, was quiet as a +kitten, waiting for the party to start. The Ranger +called to Joe’s horse, which had wandered away. +</p> +<p> +“Now mount,” said Mills. +</p> +<p> +Joe, on the right side of his horse, started to put +his right foot into the stirrup, and the horse shied +away from him, almost spilling him on the ground. +</p> +<p> +“First lesson,” said the Ranger. “Never get on +a horse from the right. Some of ’em don’t mind, +but most of ’em do. No use tempting Providence.” +</p> +<p> +Joe came around to the left side, and grasping the +horse by the mane and the saddle horn, swung himself +up. +</p> +<p> +“Now, just stand up as straight-legged as you +can, and see how many fingers you can put between +your saddle and the crotch of your legs.” +</p> +<p> +“Two,” said Joe. “Oughtn’t my stirrups to be +shorter?” +</p> +<p> +“If you want to ride like a bally British monkey, +or a jockey, yes,” Mills answered. “If you want to +ride like a regular human bein’, they’re just right. +Let’s see you trot.” +</p> +<p> +Joe tightened the reins and gave his horse a jab +with his heels, and the animal started off with abrupt +suddenness, at a sharp trot. Poor Joe began to bob +up and down, and bang the base of his spine against +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +the saddle. He tried to rise on his toes with the +motion of the horse, but that, he felt, only made him +the more awkward. The Ranger came up alongside, +and passed him. +</p> +<p> +“Watch me,” he said. “Just barely stand in +your stirrups, comfortable like, bend forward from +your hips, and let your body, not your legs, keep the +gait.” +</p> +<p> +He trotted ahead, and Joe saw with admiration +that his shoulders hardly bobbed up and down at +all. He did his best to imitate him, and after a +while felt as if he were getting on to the hang of it. +But they couldn’t trot far, because the packhorse +was following them, all by himself, and if he trotted +it shook up his pack too much. So they pulled +down to a walk, and climbed the trail, first the +Ranger, then Joe, then the patient packhorse, +through woods at first, and across a roaring, racing +little green river, which foamed up against the +horses’ legs and made Joe hold up his feet under +him to keep them dry. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going over Swift Current Pass,” the Ranger +said, “and on up the Mineral Creek Cañon on the +other side, and then down into the Little Kootenai +River country, to open the trail a bit. You can +come with me to the top of the pass, and pick up +some party to bring you back.” +</p> +<p> +“I wish I could come all the way!” Joe exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +Mills laughed another of his silent laughs. “You’re +ambitious for a sick boy and a tenderfoot,” he said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +“You’ll be sore enough, with fourteen miles, to-night.” +</p> +<p> +They were getting out of high timber now, into +stunted limber pines, which were covered all over +with bright reddish-pink cone buds, like flowers, and +everywhere in the grass and trees around them Joe +saw more beautiful wild flowers, and more kinds of +wild flowers, than he had ever seen in his life before. +It was like riding through a garden, with tremendous +red mountain precipices for walls. Beside the trail +was the Swift Current River, every now and then +widening out into a lovely little green lake, and +directly ahead of them, at the head of the cañon, +rose an almost perpendicular wall of rock for two +thousand feet, to a lofty shelf, on which Swift Current +Glacier, snow-covered now, hung like a gigantic +white napkin. To the right was the Egyptian +pyramid of Mount Wilbur. From the glacier, down +over the precipice, were falling half a dozen white +streams of waterfalls, like great silver ribbons. As +they got nearer and nearer to this head wall, and +it seemed to rise higher and higher over them, while +the walls on each side of them, the one across the +cañon bright red, also grew higher and higher, Joe +began to get nervous. +</p> +<p> +“Say,” he finally asked, “are we going to <em>climb</em> that?” +</p> +<p> +Mills looked back at him with a grin. +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I don’t see how,” Joe answered. “I’m no +goat.” +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i002' id='i002'></a> +<img src="images/illus-082.jpg" alt="Switchback Trail up Swift Current Pass" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Switchback Trail up Swift Current Pass</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span></div> +<p> +Mills laughed again, but said no more. Instead, +he plodded steadily on, till the great cliff wall seemed +about to hit them in the face, and Joe could hear the +thunder of the white waterfalls as they leaped and +plunged down from the melting glacier two thousand +feet over his head. +</p> +<p> +Just as he had decided the Ranger was playing a +joke on him, for surely nobody could get up those +walls, the trail turned sharp to the right, and began +to go up. +</p> +<p> +Then Joe learned what a Rocky Mountain switchback +is. +</p> +<p> +A switchback trail can be put up almost any +slope that is not actually perpendicular, and the +slope they were climbing now was not quite that, +though to Joe it seemed pretty near it. The trail +was about four or five feet wide, and was dug right +out of the side of the hill. It went up at an angle of +about twenty degrees, for perhaps two hundred feet +to the right, then it swung sharp left on a steep hairpin +turn and ran another two hundred or three hundred +feet, took another sharp hairpin turn, and so on +up, and up. When Joe had made one of these turns, +he could look right down on the top of the blankets +on the packhorse below him. +</p> +<p> +“Say,” he called up to the Ranger, “what happens +to you if your horse falls off here?” +</p> +<p> +“Your horse never falls off,” Mills answered. “If +he did, you’d probably take to harp playing. But +he won’t.” +</p> +<p> +They climbed up these switchbacks for two thousand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +feet or so, and then worked around a shoulder +of the mountain so that they couldn’t see the glacier +any more, but looking back down the cañon Joe +could see a great, narrow hole, with the green lakes +like a string of jewels at the bottom, and at the far +end, as blue and level as the ocean, the vast prairie. +</p> +<p> +“The prairie looks just like the ocean,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“Does it?” said the Ranger. “I never saw the +ocean. Must be fine.” +</p> +<p> +In a minute or two they reached the first snow-field. +Joe did not want to appear too green and excited, +but he was almost trembling with excitement, +just the same. He had reached the level of summer +snow! He was above timber-line, or almost above, +and here in a great northern hollow was a vast drift, +four hundred feet wide and thirty feet deep in the +middle, which Mills said would not melt all summer! +Little streams of water were gushing out from the +lower side, and the snow was very soft and coarse, +like rock salt. The trail went right across it, the +horses picking their way carefully over the treacherous +footing. They climbed but a little way more, +and they were on the top of the pass. +</p> +<p> +When you think of a mountain pass, probably, +you think of a deep valley or cañon between the +hills, but a pass is not like that at all in the high +Rockies. In order to get over the Continental +Divide (which the Indians called “the backbone of +the world”), you have to climb, and the pass is +simply a point on this spine which is not quite so +high as other points, and can be reached, moreover, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +from the base. Joe found himself in a little meadow +which was full of stunted pine trees, the last of the +timber, with snowdrifts, and with bright gold dog-tooth +violets, some of them coming right up and +blossoming through two inches of snow. On either +side of him, the Divide rose up perhaps another +five hundred or a thousand feet, in pyramids of naked +rock. Ahead, to the west, he could see a great hole, +where the Divide dropped down on the other side, +and ten miles away across this hole a wonderful +sharp-peaked mountain all covered with snow, and +looking like the pictures of the Alps in his old geography. +</p> +<p> +“What’s that mountain?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“Heaven’s Peak,” said the Ranger. “Good +name for it, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“It sure is!” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +Mills stopped the horses in a little grassy glade, +sheltered from the wind by a group of stunted pines, +and unslung the packs. +</p> +<p> +“You’re going to make me some more of that +coffee,” he laughed, opening one of his dunnage bags. +</p> +<p> +While Joe was building the fire, Mills pointed up +the great slope of naked, tumbled rocks to the south. +“Climb up there some day,” said he, “and down +the other side, and you’ll get on top of the Divide +above Swift Current Glacier. It’s narrow—just a +knife blade, and all along the centre of it you’ll see +a game trail.” +</p> +<p> +While they were eating lunch, Joe was amused to +see the ground squirrels—hundreds of them, it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +seemed—come up out of their holes in the grass and +look at the intruders. They sat up on their hind +legs, pressed their front paws against their stomachs, +and made a <em>cheeping</em> noise, almost like birds. +</p> +<p> +“Looks as if they were mechanical toys,” Joe +laughed, “and had to squeeze their middles to get a +sound.” +</p> +<p> +He put a piece of bread down side of him, to fill +his cup again, and when he went to pick it up, it +wasn’t there—it was vanishing into a hole! +</p> +<p> +“Mechanical toy, eh?” the Ranger grinned. +“Pretty smart mechanism!” +</p> +<p> +Before they were through lunch, another party appeared +from the west, coming up into the pass, and +dismounting. This was a regular tourist party of +men and women, with two cowboy guides. +</p> +<p> +“I thought they’d be along,” said Mills. “I’m +going to send you back with them. And now here’s +what I really brought you for—I’ll be gone three or +four days, and somebody’s got to look after Popgun +(that’s the horse you’re riding). How’d you like to +feed him every day, and give him some water, and +a bit o’ exercise, just around the lake, mind you. I +don’t want you riding off alone on the trails.” +</p> +<p> +Joe gasped with surprise and delight. “You—you +mean it?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“Sure I mean it. Don’t take me long to size folks +up. I like you boys, and maybe we can help each +other. Pretty lonely in my cabin, you know.” +</p> +<p> +Mills gave him directions about the feed, and then +went over and spoke to one of the guides. When +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +he came back, he said to Joe, “Now, let’s see you +throw a diamond hitch.” +</p> +<p> +Joe did his best, but he had to have help. +</p> +<p> +“I could get it with two or three more tries, I +bet!” he cried. “Then I could get a job as cook +with a party, maybe.” +</p> +<p> +“There’s a rope in the barn. You can be practicing,” +the Ranger laughed. “So long.” +</p> +<p> +“Good-bye, sir,” Joe answered, as the lean Ranger +swung into his saddle, called to his packhorse as if +it were a dog, and disappeared down the trail to the +west, the faithful packhorse plodding on behind. +</p> +<p> +The other party were a long time about their +meal, and Joe climbed part way up the peak to the +south, getting above the last timber, which consisted +of tiny, twisted trees not over two feet high, and +some of them growing along the very ground. Up +here he found beautiful, tiny Alpine flowers in the +rock crannies, he started up what looked like a big +black and gray woodchuck, and which he later +learned was a whistling marmot, and he came upon +a bird, something like a partridge, but the same gray +color as the rocks. This bird was followed by six +little fluffy chicks, which went scuttering away with +shrill little peeps into the maze of stones, and ten +feet away couldn’t be seen, so like the stones were +they. +</p> +<p> +“That’s protective coloring,” Joe thought. +“Wonder why they are colored that way?” +</p> +<p> +He was later to learn that this was a ptarmigan +hen and her chicks, the largest bird which lives +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +above timber in these mountains. No doubt it is +colored like the rocks to protect it from the eye of +foxes, eagles, and other foes. +</p> +<p> +Joe didn’t dare climb any higher, though he +longed to get to the top, which now rose steep +above him. He felt perfectly well, too, and the +climbing didn’t make him cough. But he saw the +party was packing up again, so he hurried down +and cinched up another notch in his saddle to make +sure it did not slip on the descent. He mounted and +fell in behind the procession, which immediately +began winding its way down the steep switchbacks. +Joe, from the rear, could look almost directly down +on the head of the leader, a hundred feet below him. +One or two of the women were screaming, and now +and then a stone, loosened by a house’s hoof, would +go bounding down the slope with a terrifying rattle. +But the horses, carefully putting one foot ahead of +the other, were as calm and sure as if they were on +level going, and nothing at all happened, of course. +</p> +<p> +Once on the comparatively level trail below, the +leading guide broke into a trot, and the whole cavalcade +came bouncing on behind. Joe bounced at +first as much as anybody, but by dint of much trial, +he got into the swing a little, and began to ride +more comfortably. When they were on the level +trail in the woods at last, a mile from the lake, the +leader gave a yell, touched his spurs, and leaped out +at a gallop. All the other horses, without waiting +for any command, started in to gallop also, including +Popgun. Joe yelled with the rest, jammed his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +cap on hard, hung to the horn of his saddle to keep +aboard, and felt the wind rush against his face. Still +galloping and shouting, the cavalcade dashed past +the Ranger’s cabin, and on toward the tepee camp. +</p> +<p> +Joe hoped Spider would be around to see. He +wanted to stop his horse at the tepees, but whether +he could or not was another question. Popgun +didn’t appear to have any intention of stopping till +the rest did. +</p> +<p> +As they dashed in sight of the camp, he saw +Spider standing by the trail. Joe yelled, “Hi—Tom!” +and began to tug at the reins. Popgun +came down to a trot obediently—and also suddenly, +very nearly sending Joe out over his head. Another +tug, and a “Whoa!” brought him up short, though +his ears were pricked up, and his eyes were following +the galloping cavalcade now disappearing toward +the hotel. +</p> +<p> +“Well—<em>what</em> are you doing?” exclaimed the astonished +Tom. +</p> +<p> +“I’m a regular cowboy now, eh, what? Allow me +to introduce Popgun, my gallant broncho. We’ve +been on top of the Great Divide, we have, and seen +the water going toward the Pacific, and, gee I know +where there’s a game trail we can climb to, and I’m +goin’ to have this horse to ride for three or four +days, and feed him, and—and all.” +</p> +<p> +“I bet you’re sore to-night,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +“I bet I am, too. You try him. Gee, he’s a fine +old horse. You ought to see him come down a +trail—just as careful. Wow! and some trail, too!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +</p> +<p> +Joe dismounted, stiffly, with an “Ouch!” and +Tom climbed into the saddle. Popgun looked mildly +around, to see what the change meant, and then +trotted obediently off. +</p> +<p> +Joe watched, laughing. There was no doubt that +Tom bounced. He bounced as much as the women. +The harder he tried not to, the more he bounced. +</p> +<p> +“See, you got to do it this way,” said Joe, as the +other scout came back. He started to mount again, +with a leap, but his legs were so stiff they’d hardly +work. +</p> +<p> +“Very graceful, <em>very</em> graceful indeed!” Tom +taunted. “Why don’t you get a job in the movies, +you’re so graceful?” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe I will,” Joe answered, finally getting into +his saddle. “Now look—here’s the way.” +</p> +<p> +He hit Popgun with his heels, and started up the +trail, but before he was out of sight a second cavalcade, +with a cowboy at the head, came thundering +past. Popgun turned, and in spite of Joe’s cries and +tugs at the rein, insisted on galloping with it. Hanging +helpless to his saddle horn, Tom saw Joe tearing +past, in the middle of the crowd, and disappearing +toward the hotel. +</p> +<p> +Five minutes later he returned, looking very +sheepish. +</p> +<p> +“I see just how to do it,” Tom taunted. “Joe, +you’ve got speed, but no control!” +</p> +<p> +“You wait! I’ll have old Popgun eating out of +my hand yet,” Joe answered. “Guess I’ll put him +up now, and feed him.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and then you come back and rest. You’ve +been doing too much to-day,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +When Joe got back, he found Tom busy at the +camp. The first party of hikers had arrived—ten of +them, men about thirty-five years old from Chicago, +who were taking their vacation tramping through +the Park. They all wore high, heavy boots with +hobnails, flannel shirts, khaki trousers, and carried +knapsacks on their backs. Tom was hustling around +buying provisions for them at the chalet store, fixing +their bunks, getting fresh water, making a fire in the +stove, and so on, while two of the men, who acted as +cooks, were getting ready to cook the supper. +</p> +<p> +“Can I help?” Joe asked. +</p> +<p> +“No, you go back to our tent and rest,” said Tom. +“You can get our supper, after you’ve thought a +while about how graceful you are.” +</p> +<p> +Joe went limping off, and was only too glad to lie +down in the tent. He lay on his side presently. He +began to realize acutely, and locally, that he had been +riding horseback, fourteen miles, for the first time. +</p> +<p> +But he had supper ready when Tom came at six-thirty. +</p> +<p> +“How do you feel?” Tom demanded. “I bet +you’ve been doing too much. Tired? Got a fever?” +</p> +<p> +He got out the thermometer. +</p> +<p> +“I’m sore, all right, but I’m not very tired, not +half as tired as I used to get at home, just walking +back from school.” +</p> +<p> +Tom answered by putting the thermometer in his +mouth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +</p> +<p> +“No fever at all—and you’re all sweaty,” he said +a minute later. “You really feeling better, old +Joey?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure I am.” +</p> +<p> +But Tom wouldn’t let him help after supper in getting +more wood for the camp. Tom did it all, while +Joe sat at first outside the tepees and tried to hear +the talk of the hikers about their trip, and later, when +Tom was through, moved closer to the “council fire,” +built in a ring of stones, at the invitation of the men, +and heard them tell of their twenty-two mile hike +that day over Piegan Pass from Upper St. Mary Lake. +It was fine to sit there, by the warm fire, as the darkness +gathered over the great, solemn wall of the +Divide, as the lights in the hotel across the lake +twinkled on, as the night wind whispered in the pines, +and hear the talk of glaciers, and snow-fields, and +ten-thousand-foot climbs. It made Joe and Tom +long for the day when they could get out, with +blanket and knapsack, over the high trails. They +went back to their tent at last reluctantly, while the +hikers bade them a cheerful good-night. +</p> +<p> +“Seems as if everybody in the Park was good-natured,” +Joe remarked, as he crawled into bed. +“Guess it’s the air.” +</p> +<p> +“I like everybody but the porcupines,” Tom answered, +carefully folding what was left of his sweater +under his pillow! “I wrote home for a new one to-day, +but I’ll hang on to what I’ve got.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span><a name='chVIII' id='chVIII'></a>CHAPTER VIII—Joe Gets a Chance at Last to Go Out on a Trip as Camp Cook</h2> +<p> +The next few days were busy ones for both boys. +Tom had hikers to take care of now every day, +sometimes only two or three at a time, sometimes much +larger parties, so that he had to wheel down more cots +from the chalets. There was much to do, cutting +wood, hauling water, making beds, raking and burning +the litter after each party, for Tom had learned as a +scout that one of the worst things a camper can do is +to leave any litter behind him, and one of the best +ways to collect flies around a camp is to leave scraps +and garbage unburned or unburied. He even went +over to the hotel and begged a can of stove polish +from the kitchen, and each day, after the crowd had +gone, polished up the camp stove. +</p> +<p> +Big Bertha, coming down to look things over, +found him busy at this job. +</p> +<p> +“Well, well,” said he, in his funny, high voice, +“I’d know you came from New England. Must +have a clean kitchen! The camp looks well, Tom, +and nobody’s made a kick yet. I guess we can keep +you another week.” +</p> +<p> +Then he laughed in such a way that Tom knew +his job was safe. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile Joe divided his day between cooking +the meals for Tom and himself, building a lean-to +kitchen and dining-room for rainy weather, rigging +up a porcupine-proof pantry with some old chicken +wire he found behind the hotel chicken yards, and +feeding and riding the Ranger’s horse. Twice a day +he took Popgun out for a spin, going down below +the hotel to the level meadows where the packhorses +and saddle-horses rented to the tourists were +pastured at night, and there he galloped, trotted, +and jumped logs till he felt sure of himself, and all +his saddle soreness wore off. Sometimes, after the +guests at the camp were gone, and no new party had +yet arrived, Tom took a try in the saddle, too, and +both of them, with packs made of their blankets and +an old mattress, practiced throwing a diamond hitch, +while Popgun, who was being used for the experiment, +stood still, but looked around at them with a +comical, grieved expression, as much as to say, +“What do you think I am, just an old packhorse?” +</p> +<p> +The Ranger did not return for five days, and Joe +was sorely tempted to ride Popgun up one of the +trails again, to the high places which lured him—to +Iceberg Lake, for instance, only six miles away, +which everybody talked about as being so beautiful. +But he remembered what the Ranger had said, and +he never went more than a mile or two from camp. +It was certainly hard, with a good horse under +you, and a bright sky overhead, and the great towering +red mountains all around, not to ride on and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +on, higher and higher, into those wonderful upland +meadows, and then on some more to the sky-flung +bridge of the Great Divide! +</p> +<p> +On the sixth morning, as Joe drew near the +Ranger’s cabin to feed and water Popgun, he saw +smoke coming out of the chimney. The door was +open, and inside he saw Mills just getting breakfast. +</p> +<p> +“Hello,” he called. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it’s you,” Mills answered, looking out. +“Come make me some coffee, will you?” +</p> +<p> +Joe entered, and Mills shook hands. “Glad to see +you,” he said. “I’d be glad to see <em>anybody</em>, so don’t +get flattered. I’ve been five days alone in the +woods, cuttin’ out fallen trees from the trail. Last +winter was a bad one.” +</p> +<p> +“I s’pose there’s a lot of snow here in winter,” said +Joe, as he set about making the coffee. +</p> +<p> +“Last winter there was ten feet on the level in the +woods, and the drift piled up against Many Glacier +Hotel out there till all you could see was the peak of +the roof.” +</p> +<p> +“What!” Joe cried. “Why, that’s five stories +high!” +</p> +<p> +“So was the drift,” said Mills +</p> +<p> +“What a chance for skiing!” Joe sighed. “Say, +I’d like to spend a winter here.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t let’s talk about it,” Mills suddenly said. +“Makes me blue. The winters are too darn lonely. +I see Popgun looks fat, and you’ve been groomin’ +him, too. Where’d you get the curry comb? <em>I</em> +don’t own one.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +</p> +<p> +“Made it,” Joe answered, “by punching holes +with a nail through a tin box cover.” +</p> +<p> +“Can you ride yet?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I can get around, without having to eat +off the mantelpiece at night.” +</p> +<p> +“Want a job?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure, if it’s something I can do. You know, I’m +a regular grafter now, just living off Spider. What +is it?” +</p> +<p> +“Cooking mostly. Tastes to me as if you could +do that,” the Ranger said, as he took a sip of Joe’s +coffee, and a bite of the fried eggs and bacon Joe +had also cooked for him, as they talked. +</p> +<p> +“I can cook all right—I learned that in the +Boy Scouts,” Joe answered, eagerly. “Is it for a +party?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, it’s a special party—a couple o’ congressmen +and their wives and families. The Park superintendent +wants me to show ’em around the circuit a +bit—have to be nice to congressmen, because Congress +appropriates what little money we get to build +trails with. All the camp cooks are out on trips +now, and I’m up against it unless you’ll go along.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m your man!” Joe cried, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you’re as good as a man when it comes +to coffee,” Mills grinned. “I’ll get a guide to +help out with the packing and the heavy work. +We start to-morrow morning, early. Be up here at +seven.” +</p> +<p> +“O.K.,” cried Joe, with a salute, and hurried back +to tell Tom the news. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +</p> +<p> +Spider looked grave. “I dunno about it,” said +he. “You know what the doc said about overworking. +I dunno whether I’ll let you go.” +</p> +<p> +“But it won’t be overworking,” Joe cried. “Gee, +I feel great now, anyhow, and it’s just cooking, and +the Ranger’s going to get a guide to do the heavy +packing, and I’ll be on horseback all the time, and +out in the air, and, gosh, but it’s a great chance to +see the Park, and earn some money to pay you +back——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, forget that!” said Tom. “What’s your +pay going to be?” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t know—didn’t stop to ask,” Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +“You’re a great little business man, you are,” +Tom said. “Well, you can try it this trip, if you’ll +come over now to the hotel and get weighed, and +have your temperature taken.” +</p> +<p> +The hikers had gone for the day, and the camp +was vacant, so the two scouts went around to the +hotel at once, and Joe climbed on the scales. Tom +set them at a hundred and thirty, but the weight +did not drop. He moved the indicator weight +pound by pound till he reached a hundred and +thirty-nine, before he reached a balance. +</p> +<p> +“Gosh,” cried Joe, “that’s almost ten pounds I’ve +put on since I left little old Southmead!” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and you haven’t coughed for a week,” Tom +added. “You’re on the mend, all right, all right. +But you got to stay so, and I dunno about letting +you go on this trip—it’ll be hard work cooking for a +whole lot o’ people.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +</p> +<p> +“Aw, please!” Joe pleaded. “I feel great now, +honest I do. Besides, it’s all out in the open air.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, you can try it this once,” Tom finally said. +“But if you have any fever, or have lost any weight, +or are fagged, when you get back, or have any signs +of a cold, or cough, no more trips for you!” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, doctor,” Joe answered, meekly. +</p> +<p> +They went back to the camp, and Joe spent the +afternoon studying the government topographical +survey map of the Park he had bought at the hotel, +overhauling his personal equipment, and then, at the +supply depot of the Glacier Park Saddle Company, +which furnishes the horses, tents, guides, blankets, +etc., for camping and horseback parties in the Park, +selecting what he wanted in the way of cooking +utensils and provisions for his party. +</p> +<p> +Mills said they would be out five days, and there +were to be two men, two women, two girls and a +boy in the party, besides Mills, Joe and two guides, +for Mills had decided they’d need two. That made +eleven people in all, or a hundred and sixty-five +individual meals. Joe began to think, when he +came to figure it out, that it was more of a job than +it looked at first, especially when all the stuff had to +be packed on horseback. He planned for canned +soups, for coffee, tea and cocoa, served with condensed +milk, of course; for plenty of bacon; for two +or three meals of eggs, packed in a small crate; for +two meals of beef (which, of course, would not keep, +and would have to be served the first two days out); +for pancakes and “saddle blankets” (a kind of pan-fried +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +cake served with syrup, the syrup coming in +cans); for bread, of course, if he had time to make +any; and, finally, beans, sardines, crackers, some +canned vegetables, and jam, marmalade and canned +peaches. All these things could be carried easily, +as they came in tins or jars. All that was needed +were the horses. He got everything ready to be +packed in the morning, and hurried back to camp +to get Tom’s supper. Tom was busy with a big +crowd of hikers, who had just arrived over Piegan +Pass, and it was late before the two boys sat down +to their meal. +</p> +<p> +“I sort of hate to go now,” Joe said. “I’ll be +seeing all the Park, and you having to stick around +here and make beds for the hikers. When I get +back, I’m going to ask Big Bertha to let me run the +camp, while you have a trip.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>Yes</em> you are!” Spider laughed. “You’re going +to rest a whole week after you get back. You look +tired already. Guess I won’t let you go, after all.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d like to see you stop me!” Joe answered, as +he took a third helping of pancakes. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you eat like a well man, I must admit,” +said Spider, reaching for what was left. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span><a name='chIX' id='chIX'></a>CHAPTER IX—Over Piegan Pass to St. Mary Lake, Underneath the Precipices</h2> +<p> +Promptly at seven, Joe was at the Ranger’s +cabin. He had already cooked Tom’s breakfast, +and Tom was over at the camp, helping the +hikers to get theirs. The sun had long been up, +and the day was clear and perfect. In fact, there +hadn’t yet been a rainy day since the scouts reached +the Park. But Mills had told Joe to bring his rubber +poncho, so he had it with him. He was to ride +Popgun, of course, and the Ranger and he put their +personal equipment of blankets, tent, extra clothing, +ponchos, axes, and the like, on the Ranger’s packhorse, +and started for the big hotel. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve got hold of a good extra man,” Mills said. +“With so many skirts in the party, we’ll have a big +pack-train, for they insist on sleeping out instead of +going to the chalets. I was over last night to see ’em.” +</p> +<p> +“Where are we going to-day?” Joe asked. +</p> +<p> +“Piegan Pass,” Mills answered, “and make camp +to-night by the lake. That’s twenty-two miles. To-morrow +we’ll go to Gunsight Lake—that’s only +seven, and it’ll be all they’ll want after to-day—and +rest up, and let ’em climb Blackfeet Glacier if they +want to.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +</p> +<p> +At the hotel the two cowboy guides, one of them +not very much older than Joe, were already on hand +with the horses and Joe’s equipment of stores, and +the cooking kit, and three tents, and innumerable +blankets. It made such a pile of stuff that you’d +have thought it would need a regiment of horses to +carry it, but Mills and the two guides went about the +task of packing it on to the backs of five horses, +and so well did they stow it away, properly balanced +on either side and made fast with ropes in diamond +hitches, that the horses didn’t seem to mind it in the +least, though they looked more like camels than +horses. It was eight o’clock before this work was +done, and by that time the tourists appeared, with +their dunnage bags, which had to be packed on two +more horses. +</p> +<p> +Joe had never seen a congressman before, except +once when he went to a political rally and he could +not help staring at the two men as they approached, +and wanting to laugh. Beside Mills and the two +cowboys, they looked so unfitted for this job of riding +a horse over the high trails! They looked about +as unfit as the cowboys would have looked in Congress. +Both of them still wore long trousers and +ordinary boots, though they had bought themselves +flannel shirts and soft hats at the hotel store, and +sweaters. Their wives were not very much better +equipped, though both of them had bought khaki +divided riding skirts (for nobody is allowed to ride a +side saddle in the Park). Beside the two congressmen +and their wives, there were two girls about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +twenty, and a boy about Joe’s age. One of the girls +was the daughter of Congressman Elkins of New +Jersey, the other two of Congressman Jones of Pennsylvania. +All three of the young people, Joe noted, +were better equipped. The girls had regular riding +breeches and leather leggins, like a man’s, and the +boy had khaki riding breeches and high boots. +</p> +<p> +As soon as their dunnage bags had been packed +on two more horses, the job of getting the women +into their saddles began, and then getting the stirrups +adjusted right. The girls and young Jones +were up and ready long before their mothers were, +and making uncomplimentary remarks. +</p> +<p> +“Say, ma,” called young Jones, “if your horse +bucks, grab his tail. That always stops ’em.” +</p> +<p> +“Father looks as scared as when he made his first +speech in the House,” laughed Miss Elkins. +</p> +<p> +“Nonsense!” said that statesman. “I rode a +horse many a time when I was a boy.” +</p> +<p> +“That was a long time ago, papa dear,” his +daughter said. +</p> +<p> +“And pray when did you learn to ride?” her +father asked, trying to get comfortable in his saddle. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it’s just going to come natural to me,” she +answered, with one of her rippling laughs that Joe +liked to hear. +</p> +<p> +Mills walked through the little group of mounted +riders, gave a testing pull to all the saddle girths, +looked at the stirrups, and vaulted into his own +saddle. +</p> +<p> +“You keep the two horses with the dunnage bags, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +and our own packhorse, in front of you, just behind +the last rider,” he said to Joe. Then he touched his +horse with his heel, and the animal jumped up the +trail. The rest followed—first the party of tourists, +behind Mills, then one of the guides to keep an eye +on them, then three packhorses, then Joe to keep an +eye on these three, then the five other packhorses, +and finally the second guide to watch them. In all, +then, there were nineteen horses strung out along +the trail in single file, which made a considerable +procession, as Joe looked forward and then back +upon it. +</p> +<p> +The trail they were on did not go past the tepee +camp, so Joe had no chance to call good-bye to Tom. +It went along the other shore of Lake McDermott, +sometimes on the little rocky beach, sometimes +almost in the water, heading directly up the valley +toward the great gray fortress of Gould Mountain +and Grinnell Glacier, which Joe could see glistening +like a huge white and green silk mantle flung along +a high ledge just under the spine of the Continental +Divide. Mills broke into a trot as soon as the party +was well started, and ahead Joe could see the two +congressmen and their wives bounding up and +down, and noticed that Congressman Elkins, who +said he rode when he was a boy, bounded quite as +much as any one. Of course, the packhorses wanted +to trot, too, and Joe saw the guide in front turning +back and gesticulating to him. He gave Popgun a +jab in the ribs, and rode past his three charges, getting +in front of them, and then pulled Popgun down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +to a walk. If he had not, of course, the packs might +soon have been shaken off. The tourists were soon +out of sight up the trail, in the woods, and Joe and +Val, the young cowboy, were left alone, with the +eight pack animals. +</p> +<p> +It looked like an easy job they had, too, but Joe +soon found it was not so easy as it looked. Some +one of the eight was always wanting to fall out of +line and eat a particularly tempting bunch of grass, +or else took it into his silly head to make a détour +into the woods, and then he had to be yelled at, or +chased and driven into line again. Joe found +himself fairly busy most of the first four miles of +the trail, till they reached Grinnell Meadow, where +the rest of the party had halted and were waiting for +them. +</p> +<p> +Grinnell Meadow, Joe thought, was the most +beautiful place he had ever been in. It was a grassy +glade of twenty acres, at the foot of Grinnell Lake, +and was studded with little fir trees and carpeted +with great white chalice cups, which are a kind of +big anemone. The lake itself was green in color, +and maybe half a mile across. The far side lay +right under a two thousand foot precipice which +sprang up to the glacier, and down this precipice, +from under the lip of the glacier, were pouring half +a dozen very slender waterfalls, like long white ribbons +let down the rocks. Just to the left the vast +cliff wall of Mount Gould shot straight up to the almost +ten thousand foot summit. (Of course, the meadow +being five or six thousand feet above sea level, this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +wall of Gould wasn’t ten thousand feet high, but +only about four thousand.) +</p> +<p> +As soon as Mills saw the packhorses appear, +however, he gave the signal to proceed, so Joe +did not have time to look about much. The trail +crossed the meadow, the ground squirrels peeking +out of their holes and chattering angrily at the disturbance, +and then turned left, and began at once to +climb, alongside of the great cliff of Gould Mountain. +They climbed beside a roaring brook, and Joe soon +realized that they weren’t going up Gould at all, but +up the side cañon to the east. They hadn’t gone a +mile before this brook was far below them, and they +looked across the deep hole it had made to the +towering cliffs of Gould. Gould is a part of the +Great Divide, and Joe could now see more plainly +than ever before the strata of the earth crust—layer +on layer of different colored stone, like the layers in +a gigantic cake. All down the precipices were coming +waterfalls, from the snow-fields above, and Joe +and Val reckoned that one fall took a clean jump +of twenty-five hundred feet. They could hear the +thunder of it, across the cañon, though it was not +nearly so loud as you might think, because most +of the water turned to mist before it reached the +bottom. +</p> +<p> +Now the trail began to get into the region of +switchbacks, and Joe could see the horses of all the +party strung out far ahead, and then suddenly +doubling on their tracks so Mills would pass almost +over his head, and speak to him as he went by. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +Before long, he saw Mills halt, where the trail went +close to a beautiful waterfall, and as he came up, he +heard the Ranger telling the party that it was Morning +Eagle Falls. +</p> +<p> +“What a pretty name—it must be Indian, of +course?” Miss Elkins said. +</p> +<p> +“Named for some Blackfeet chief, I suppose,” +Mills answered. +</p> +<p> +“Say, dad, what’s the matter with you?” laughed +the Jones boy. “Why don’t you christen it Congressman +Peter W. Jones Falls? What’s the use of +being in the House of Representatives if you can’t +name a dinky little waterfall after yourself?” +</p> +<p> +“My boy, he’s waiting till he reaches the biggest +mountain in the Park, to name that after himself,” +the other congressman said, while every one laughed, +and the procession started up again. +</p> +<p> +They were climbing an ever steeper trail, now, and +the trees began to grow smaller and smaller, while, +looking back, Joe could see Grinnell Meadow far +below him and the great cliff of Gould shooting up +out of it. Ahead, they began to get into snow-fields, +and then they crossed timber-line, where the trees +were twisted and bent and even laid over flat by the +wind, and sometimes an evergreen a foot thick would +be only eighteen inches tall, and then, for twenty +feet, bend over and lie along the ground like a vine, +sheared by the wind. Beyond timber-line they came +into a wild, naked, desolate region of broken shale +stone, with tiny Alpine flowers growing in the crannies, +snow-fields lying all about, and to their right, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +quite near, the southern end of Gould Mountain +where it dropped down a little to the Continental +Divide level, to their left the bare stone pile summit +of Mount Siyeh, which is over ten thousand feet +high. A few more steps, and they stood on top of +the pass, and looked over the rim, on the tumbled +mountains to the south, with the great blue and +white pyramid of Jackson (ten thousand feet) rising +a dozen miles away or more, over what looked like a +vast hole in the earth. +</p> +<p> +“This is Piegan Pass,” said Mills. +</p> +<p> +“Why Piegan—and why a pass?” one of the +congressmen asked. “I thought a pass was a place +where you went between things, not up over their +backs.” +</p> +<p> +The Ranger laughed. “You’re only seven thousand +feet up here,” he said. “That mountain to the +east, Siyeh, is ten thousand.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, it looks as if I could just walk across these +stones and get to the top of it in twenty minutes!” +cried Bob Jones. +</p> +<p> +“Try it,” said Mills, laconically. “We’ll be having +lunch down in the pines below.” +</p> +<p> +Joe thought of the story of the Englishman, and +hoped Bob would try it. +</p> +<p> +“You haven’t explained the Piegan,” Miss Elkins +said. +</p> +<p> +“Why, the Indians that owned this reservation +were the Piegan tribe of the Blackfeet,” said Mills. +</p> +<p> +“Dear, dear, another lost opportunity for dad!” +sighed the irrepressible Bob. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +</p> +<p> +The cavalcade now began the descent on the +south side of the pass, with the Divide on their +right, across a cañon, and the trail itself dug out of +the vast shale slide which was the south wall of +Siyeh. It was a steep, narrow trail, nothing but +loose shale, and the horses had to pick their way +slowly and carefully, while the riders had to lean +well back and brace in their stirrups to keep from +sliding forward on the horse. +</p> +<p> +“Say, Mr. Mills,” Joe heard Bob call, “has this +horse of mine got strong ears?” +</p> +<p> +“Why?” asked Mills. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing, only if he hasn’t, I’m going to take a +toboggan slide down his nose.” +</p> +<p> +“Try walking,” Mills called back. +</p> +<p> +Joe saw Bob dismount, and as he was feeling saddle +stiff, he got off his horse, too, and led him down +by the bridle. The poor packhorses had to tread +on the very outside edge of the trail, because if they +didn’t, their packs would knock the wall on the inner +side, and what kept them from slipping off was hard +to see. +</p> +<p> +The trail down seemed endless. Far below, Joe +saw a party coming up, looking about a quarter of a +mile away. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose we’ll meet ’em day after to-morrow,” +Bob said. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i003' id='i003'></a> +<img src="images/illus-108.jpg" alt="Trail up Piegan Pass Showing Continental Divide and Mt. Gould" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Trail up Piegan Pass Showing Continental Divide and Mt. Gould</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span></div> +<p> +As a matter of fact, it was half an hour before the +two parties met. They had to pass on this narrow +path, and Mills, the two guides, and Joe held the +horses of their party while the ascending riders +squeezed past, and then led the packhorses, one by +one, to a spot where they could make room for another +horse to get by. It seemed ticklish work to +Joe, but the horses were as calm about it as if they +had been on level ground. +</p> +<p> +It was long after one o’clock when the nineteen +horses of the procession finally stepped off the last +of the shale upon the green grass of a little meadow, +and then into a level strip of woods. With a yell, +Mills hit his horse, and went forward at a smart trot, +everybody following, even the weary packhorses. +Out of the woods on the other side they trotted into +the most beautiful spot Joe had ever seen in all his +life, and when Miss Elkins cried, “Oh, is this +Heaven?” he felt like saying, “Me too!”—but remembered +that, after all, he was only the cook, and +kept silent. +</p> +<p> +“This is Piegan Pines,” said the Ranger. “All +off for lunch.” +</p> +<p> +He sprang from his saddle, and he and the forward +guide helped the two older women to dismount—and +they certainly needed help. +</p> +<p> +“I can <em>never</em> get back there again,” wailed poor +Mrs. Jones, as she flopped down on the grass. +</p> +<p> +While the party were dismounting, Joe had just +time for a quick look about him. They were in a +little meadow, maybe half a mile wide, with towering +rock walls on both sides, hung with snow-fields +and a glacier or two, and, behind, the great shale +slide down which they had just come. Only one +side, to the south, was open—and there the meadow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +just dropped off into space. Across the hole, far off +and blue, was the great blue mass of Mount Jackson, +covered with snow, and the great white and green +slopes of Blackfeet Glacier, the largest in the Park. +The meadow was full of little limber pines, golden +with millions of dog-tooth violet bells, and criss-crossed +with tiny ice-water brooks, running in channels +over the grass—made, of course, by melting +snow on the cliffs above. +</p> +<p> +“Golly,” thought Joe, “if old Spider and I could +only come and camp here!” +</p> +<p> +But now Mills was telling him to get a quick, +cold lunch, and he and the other guide sprang for +the packhorses, and got out what was needed, while +Mills made a camp-fire beside one of the brooks. +</p> +<p> +As Joe was making his preparations, he felt Miss +Elkins standing beside him, and looked up. +</p> +<p> +“Are you the cook?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“I—I believe so,” Joe stammered, getting red. +</p> +<p> +“You don’t look very old to be a cook,” said she. +“Have you got lots and lots to eat? I could devour +a whole butcher shop, I think.” +</p> +<p> +“Cold lunch,” said Joe, grinning. “Ranger’s +orders.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, not a cold lunch! Mr. Mills—Mr. Mills—cook +says you say a cold lunch. You didn’t say +that, did you?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure, ice water and a cracker,” the Ranger +grinned. “Can’t stop to cook.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, please, just coffee—mother will <em>never</em> get +back on her horse without a cup of coffee.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ll never get back without <em>two</em> cups,” groaned +Mrs. Jones. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Joe, make ’em coffee,” said Mills, with a +wink at Joe, who had been intending to make coffee +all the time. +</p> +<p> +He filled his kettle at the little brook, and while +the coffee was boiling, opened a small can of sardines +apiece, some boxes of crackers, a can of beans, +and two or three jars of jam. For the jam, he carefully +whittled some dead pine limbs into rough +spoons, to save dish washing, and sweetened the +coffee, when ready, in the pot, for the same purpose. +</p> +<p> +By the time he had this very simple lunch spread +out on a bit of level ground, with no plates or spoons +except for the beans, which he had heated while the +coffee was boiling, the party had scattered, all but +Val, the young cowboy. +</p> +<p> +“Ready?” Val asked. +</p> +<p> +“All ready.” +</p> +<p> +Val picked up a piece of wood and a frying-pan, +which lay on the opened pack. Pounding the pan +with the stick like a drum, he yelled, +</p> +<p> +“Come and get it!” +</p> +<p> +“That’s the word that brings ’em in these parts,” +he added to Joe. +</p> +<p> +It did. +</p> +<p> +“That’s the most eloquent speech I ever heard!” +exclaimed Mr. Jones. +</p> +<p> +In about one minute, they were all gathered +around the fire. Val passed the food and Joe poured +the coffee. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +</p> +<p> +“Say, what do you take these sardines out +with?” demanded Mrs. Jones. +</p> +<p> +“Fingers were made before forks, mother darling,” +said Bob. “See—watch your little son.” +</p> +<p> +He picked up a sardine by the tail, and dropped +the whole of it into his mouth. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I must say, I’d like a fork——” she began, +and Joe turned red, for he had forgotten the forks +for the sardines. +</p> +<p> +But Miss Elkins spoke up before Mrs. Jones could +finish. +</p> +<p> +“Cook hasn’t time to wash dishes this noon,” she +said. “We’ve got to make camp before dark. Besides, +we’re roughing it. I think it’s great!” and +she, too, picked a sardine out of her tin by the tail, +and dropped it upon a cracker. +</p> +<p> +Joe cast her a grateful glance, and she smiled at +him sweetly. He decided then and there, as he put +it to himself, that she was “all to the good.” +</p> +<p> +Meantime Mrs. Elkins, her mother, was watching +Val, with fascinated eyes. +</p> +<p> +“What <em>are</em> you looking at, mother?” her daughter +demanded. Bob’s eyes followed hers, and he gave +a hoot of glee. +</p> +<p> +“A Charlie Chaplin sandwich!” he cried. +</p> +<p> +Then everybody looked at Val, who was grinning +amiably, as he sat on a fallen log, making himself a +sandwich, between two crackers, of the entire bill of +fare—sardines, jam, and baked beans. This he consumed +in exactly three bites, and proceeded to concoct +another one. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well,” he said, as he made this second, “you +mix ’em all inside, don’t you? Why not first? +Saves time.” +</p> +<p> +“Ugh!” said Mrs. Jones. “I’m afraid I wasn’t +born to rough it.” +</p> +<p> +“Efficiency, I call it,” said her husband. “Why +not, as he says. Think I’ll try it.” +</p> +<p> +“Me, too,” said Bob. +</p> +<p> +“Me, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Me, too,” from each of the girls. They all did +try it—once—much to Mrs. Jones’ disgust. +</p> +<p> +It did not take long to clean out the sardine tins +and the jam jars. Then Joe produced a piece of +sweet chocolate apiece, while the girls called him +“a darling thing,” and the congressmen lit their +cigars and lay back on the grass, while Joe and Val +packed up again. +</p> +<p> +“You go along right away, with the pack-train,” +said Mills to them, “and when you reach the lake, turn +toward Sun Camp, till you come to the point of land. +Start making camp by that. We’ll come slower.” +</p> +<p> +So Joe had to climb back on Popgun—reluctantly, +for he hated to leave this beautiful upland meadow, +and led the way down the trail, with the eight packhorses +behind him, and Val bringing up the rear. +Of course, he and Val were thus so far apart they +could not talk, and with nothing in front of him, it +seemed almost as if he were alone, plunging into the +unknown wilderness. +</p> +<p> +The trail immediately fell over the edge of the +meadow, into timber, and began to descend steeply, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +the woods growing more dense and the trees much +larger as the trail dropped down, till, after a mile or +two, they were in a heavy forest of big fir trees. As +they neared the bottom land, the footing got heavy, +too, and finally the trail was mostly black mud. +They plodded through this for a mile or more, and +then, through the great tree trunks, Joe began to see +light, and, high up, the red and white and gray tops +of mountains, and finally, after they had turned to +the left by a rushing stream, and followed down it a +ways, he saw the dancing waters of a green lake. +A short distance now, and they were beside this lake. +It was, Joe knew, St. Mary Lake, the upper end of +the same lake he had seen on the trip in from the +railroad on the motor bus. +</p> +<p> +As he came out on an open headland on the +shore, he could not help pulling up his horse, and +looking at it. Val trotted up beside him. +</p> +<p> +“Some pond, eh?” said the cowboy. “I like this +puddle. Good fish in it, too.” +</p> +<p> +But Joe was not thinking of fish then. He was +thinking—well, he could not have told you what he +was thinking; maybe he was just feeling. It was +all so huge, and awe-inspiring, and yet so beautiful! +The lake was two miles wide, he fancied, and went +out of sight around a headland to the east. To the +west, it seemed to run right up into a big cañon that +ended bang against Blackfeet Glacier, Mount Jackson, +and the sawtooth peaks of the Great Divide. +Directly opposite, two huge rock pyramids came +sheer down into the water. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +</p> +<p> +“Those are Red Eagle and Little Chief Mountains,” +said Val. “See that house over on the one little +island? That’s where the president of the Great +Northern Railroad lives in summer. Come on, +though, we can’t look at the pretty pictures. We’ve +got to get tents up for the others. She doesn’t like +to rough it, Mrs. Jones don’t. Say, I bet she asks +you to heat her curling irons to-night.” +</p> +<p> +Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Why didn’t you remind me of the forks?” said +he. “I’m green, you know, and get rattled.” +</p> +<p> +“Forks, what for? Let her use her pickers. +It’ll do her good,” said Val. +</p> +<p> +Joe laughed again. Val was just what he wanted +a cowboy to be—jolly, reckless, without any reverence +for any one or anything. He liked him especially +because when it came to doing any job, he went +right at it cheerfully and did it. +</p> +<p> +They now trotted east, along the border of the +lake, directly in front of them towering up the huge +and beautifully shaped pinkish-gray pyramid of +Going-to-the-Sun Mountain. After a mile or so, Val +called out for Joe to turn off the trail, and he obeyed, +going down through the woods to a long spit of +rocks and earth and little trees which had been +pushed out into the lake by a roaring brook, which +now flowed through the middle of it. Here they dismounted +and unloaded the horses, which Val led +back to the trail, and then took somewhere up the +slopes to their night feeding. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile Joe set about making camp. He first +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +picked out a good place for the fire pit, and built +that. He got out what he was going to need for +supper, and then set about collecting dead wood for +his fire. He did not have to go far, either, for the +whole rocky beach of the lake was lined with driftwood, +and he cut up a good supply, made a fire, and +put on two kettles of water to boil, one with some of +the beef in it for a stew, one for soup. Then he went +at the task of setting up the tent the Ranger had +packed, in which he and Mills would sleep, and in +which he would keep his provisions. +</p> +<p> +He had hardly finished, and had the stuff stowed +into it, when up the trail he heard voices, and a moment +later the party came in sight. They were +mostly silent now—only Bob and the girls were doing +any talking. Their mothers were hanging forward +over the horns of their saddles, thoroughly tired out, +and the two congressmen looked nearly as fagged +as the women. +</p> +<p> +“Can I help?” Joe asked the Ranger, after the +party had dismounted, and the older people had +flopped on the ground. +</p> +<p> +“No, get supper as soon as you can, that’s all. +Dick and I will pitch the tents. Where’s Val?” +</p> +<p> +“He took the horses somewhere.” +</p> +<p> +“Good. He can take these, too, when he gets +back. That’ll please him a whole lot! Why didn’t +he wait till he had the whole bunch?” +</p> +<p> +Joe looked quickly at Mills’ face, for he had never +seen the Ranger cross before. +</p> +<p> +Mills managed a grin, when he saw the look. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +“Yes, I got a grouch,” he said, in a low tone. “It’s +that Jones woman. You’d think she wanted a twin-six +limousine to bring her over Piegan Pass! +What’ll you take to throw her in the lake?” +</p> +<p> +“Wait for Val. He’ll do it for nothing,” Joe +laughed. “She’ll feel better soon. I’m goin’ to give +her two forks.” +</p> +<p> +Joe went back to his preparations for supper, keeping +the fire roaring under his stew to hasten the +cooking, and mixing up a batter of flour, condensed +milk, one of his precious eggs, and some baking +powder, for cakes. The Ranger and Dick, the other +guide, were busy with the tents, one for the three +men, and two smaller ones for the four women. The +women’s tents had little folding cot beds, but the men’s +did not, and Mills, with a wink at Joe, gave Bob and +the two congressmen axes, and told them to go cut +themselves boughs to sleep on, from a big evergreen +which had blown over. Meanwhile, the two girls +came over to Joe’s fire, and watched him work. +</p> +<p> +They sniffed at the kettle of stew. +</p> +<p> +“Are we going to have <em>meat</em>, really, truly meat, +for dinner, Cookie?” asked Miss Jones. +</p> +<p> +“Alice, if you call him Cookie, he’ll poison you, +won’t you—Joe?” said Miss Elkins. +</p> +<p> +Joe looked up and met her twinkling eyes. +“Sure,” he said. “I’ll put a Charlie Chaplin sandwich +in it.” +</p> +<p> +“Mercy, Mr. Cook, Sir Cook, My Lord Cook, +Reverend Cook!” cried Alice. +</p> +<p> +“All right, s’long as you don’t call me Dr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +Cook,” said Joe, peeping in the stew kettle to see +how it was coming along. +</p> +<p> +“Here, no flirting with the cook,” Mills called out. +“You girls have got to make the beds.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” laughed Lucy Elkins. (Joe thought +to himself that Lucy was a nice name.) “Where are +the sheets and pillow-cases?” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll find ’em in the linen closet, next door beyond +the bathroom,” Mills grinned. +</p> +<p> +Then she and Alice grabbed armfuls of blankets +from the packs, and disappeared into the tents. +</p> +<p> +Meantime Val arrived, and the Ranger asked him +why he didn’t wait and drive all the horses up +together. +</p> +<p> +“’Cause I’m a natural born mut, and didn’t think +of it,” said Val. +</p> +<p> +The Ranger growled, and turned away. “Because +he’d rather do that than pitch tents,” he muttered. +“All cowboys are lazy.” +</p> +<p> +The two weary congressmen and Bob now reappeared, +with armfuls of evergreen boughs, and the +Ranger went to show them how to lay their beds. +The sun was getting well down toward the tops of the +peaks on the Great Divide to the west. Already it +was getting colder, and the women had put on their +sweaters. The green waters of the lake were lap-lapping +against the shore, and the smell of Joe’s stew +was rising with the smoke of the fire. When he saw +it was about done, he made a big pot of coffee, then +opened his cans of soup, and poured them into the +other kettle of boiling water, and mixed it to the right +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +consistency. As soon as this was ready, and Val +appeared down from the woods above, he pounded a +frying-pan and yelled, +</p> +<p> +“Come and get it!” +</p> +<p> +In a second he was surrounded. Sitting on large +stones, or logs washed down by the spring floods in +the brook, with their laps or other stones as tables, +every one except Joe ate the piping hot soup. Then +they had stew, on tin plates, with bread and coffee +and jam, and while the stew was being eaten Joe +tossed over the “saddle blankets” in his frying-pan. +</p> +<p> +“Why don’t you go into vaudeville with that +act?” Bob called to him, as he flapped a cake up +with the pan, and caught it neatly, other side +down. +</p> +<p> +These they ate with butter from a jar and syrup +from a tin can, which Joe had stocked at the Many +Glacier store. Finally, he gave them preserved +peaches for dessert. +</p> +<p> +“Poor Joe,” said Lucy, as he passed her dessert +to her. “I don’t believe we’ve left a thing for +you.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you worry about me,” Joe answered. “I +have the supplies in my tent!” +</p> +<p> +She laughed, but he saw that she was watching to +see if there really was any supper left for him, and it +seemed very good to have some one thinking that +way about you. +</p> +<p> +As a matter of fact, there was a little soup left, and +a good big plate of stew, and all the jam he wanted, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +so Joe had no complaint. He sat behind his fire and +devoured his supper hungrily, before he tackled the +final job of cleaning up all the dishes. +</p> +<p> +It would have been quite dark at home by this +time, for it was eight o’clock, or more, but up here it +was still light enough to read, and as Joe took the +dishes down to the brook to scour them with clean +sand before he poured boiling water over them, he +looked up into the west, and saw the great, towering +pyramids of the mountains, blue against the sunset +sky, with their snow patches and glaciers all rosy +pink. The two girls were standing near him, and +when they saw him looking, they said, “Isn’t it +lovely?” +</p> +<p> +“I never saw anything so beautiful,” Joe answered, +simply. “I like mountains, but these are such big +ones, and there are so many colors in ’em!” +</p> +<p> +“Joe, I believe you’re a poet,” Lucy said. +</p> +<p> +“Well, if your poetry is as good as your coffee, +Shakespeare will have to watch out,” Alice laughed. +</p> +<p> +Joe turned red again, and nearly dropped his +stack of plates. +</p> +<p> +When he had the dishes washed and the fire-wood +ready for morning, he found that the Ranger had +built a big camp-fire in front of the tents, and placed +some logs about it, to lean against, while sitting on +the ground. Everybody was sitting in a ring, glad +of the warmth now that the cold night chill was falling +from the peaks—all but the two cowboys, who +had disappeared. +</p> +<p> +“They’ve gone to the Sun Camp chalets, half a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +mile down the trail,” said Mills, when somebody +asked where they were. +</p> +<p> +“And where’s Joe?” said Lucy. “Oh, there he +is. Come on in the house, Joe, where it’s warm. +Mr. Mills is going to tell us a bedtime story.” +</p> +<p> +She made room for Joe to sit beside her, and he +sank down, weary and sore, for they had ridden +twenty-two miles that day, and he had cooked for +eleven hungry people. +</p> +<p> +“Now Mr. Mills—begin!” she commanded. +</p> +<p> +The poor Ranger turned red in his turn. +</p> +<p> +“Gosh,” he said, “I couldn’t tell a story. I don’t +know any stories.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes you do—you must.” +</p> +<p> +“Tell us a bear story.” cried Bob. “And tell it +quick, or dad’ll be telling one of those he gets off in +after dinner speeches, and we’ll all be asleep.” +</p> +<p> +“Bob, I’m too sore and tired to thrash you,” +laughed the congressman. +</p> +<p> +“But you’re never too tired to tell a story, dad. +Hurry, Mr. Mills, I can see one coming now!” +</p> +<p> +“If I had a child like that, I’d—I’d——” Mr. Elkins began. +</p> +<p> +“You’d send him to Congress to listen to all the +speeches there for punishment,” chortled the irrepressible +Bob. “Please, Mr. Mills, a bear story.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, a bear story!”—from the men. +</p> +<p> +“A <em>grizzly</em> bear story!”—from Alice. +“A <em>great</em>, BIG grizzly bear story!”—from Lucy. +“And put in the middle-sized bear, and the little +weeny bear, too, if you want to.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +</p> +<p> +The Ranger laughed. “Well,” he said, “I can +tell you a bear and a lion story, if that’ll do.” +</p> +<p> +He threw another driftwood log on the fire, and +began. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span><a name='chX' id='chX'></a>CHAPTER X—The Ranger Tells a Grizzly Bear Story Before the Camp-Fire</h2> +<p> +“The first thing you want to remember about +old Mr. Silver Tip,” said the Ranger, “is that +he’s a good deal like a lot o’ big, strong men, he’s +too powerful to be scrappy. You hear a lot o’ stories +about grizzlies bein’ terrible fighters, and they sure +can fight when they’re cornered, or when old mother +bear thinks her cubs are in danger. But if a silver +tip can possibly get away, he gets. That’s not because +he’s afraid, either, of anything on earth except +a high power rifle. It’s because he ain’t lookin’ for +trouble. Mr. Silver Tip is afraid of a rifle, all right, +and he’s about the smartest of all animals in keeping +away from it, too. But there’s nothing else he’s +afraid of, and before man came into these mountains +to shoot him, he just wandered around here, the +king pin, and nobody bothered him a bit, no sir.” +</p> +<p> +“But don’t grizzlies have to fight to kill anything +as big as a moose?” asked Bob. +</p> +<p> +“They don’t kill anything as big as a moose,” the +Ranger said. “Oh, once in a blue moon an old +bear will go wrong, and take to killing cattle. +Down in Wyoming there was a silver tip used to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +kill cattle, and two hundred men and dogs hunted +him a month, and never did get him. But mostly +they live on roots and berries and mice and ground +squirrels and dead birds and animal carcases something +else has killed. Why, I’ve seen a grizzly +digging out a ground squirrel in the early spring, +just after he’d come out of his winter nest, not far +from my cabin, and a lot of sheep, down there to +get the early grass, walking right up close to him to +see what he was up to. When they got too close—sheep +are kind o’ curious, like kids and women—he +just <em>woufed</em> at ’em, to drive ’em off. They weren’t +afraid of him eatin’ ’em, though, at all, and he could +have cleaned out the flock with about two bites. +</p> +<p> +“Well, this is just to show you how little fear Mr. +Silver Tip has that anything but a man can do him +any harm, or will dare try it. I was hunting once +over west of the Flathead River, in bear country, +and I had a dead horse out in a clearing for bait. +Up in a tree on the edge of the clearing I’d built +myself a kind of blind, where I could watch. You +see, most bears can climb trees, but the grizzly can’t, +so when one comes after you, Bob, you just beat it +up the nearest trunk.” +</p> +<p> +“Thanks for the tip—the silver tip, as you might +say,” the boy laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” Mills went on, “by ’n’ by along into the +clearing come two lions, long, lean, hungry lookin’, +sneaky beasts they are, too—I hate ’em—and they +fell to on the carcase, and began to eat. Thinks I, +I’d wait and see what happened, instead of killin’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +’em and maybe scarin’ off the bear with the shots +so’s he’d never come back. Sure enough, the old +boy came galumphing along presently, and went up +on his hind legs when he saw the lions at his festal +board, as you might say. Then he dropped down +again, and just walked right up, stuck his big +shoulders in between the two lions, shovin’ ’em +apart, and began to eat.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s no way to treat a lion,” said Lucy. +</p> +<p> +“No, specially as one of ’em was a lady lion,” +Mills laughed. “But that’s what old Silver Tip did. +The lions naturally didn’t like it, and one of ’em +snarled, and up with his paw and fetched the bear a +nasty swipe. Then I expected to see trouble. +</p> +<p> +“But what do you think the old bear did? He just +kind of side-cut with one of his big paws and caught +that lion a blow that sent him spinning head over +tail twenty feet down the slope. Then he went right +on eating. He didn’t look at the other lion, he +didn’t even look around to see what the first one +was goin’ to do. ’Peared as if he was quite certain +what they’d both do, and they done it. They both +took a quick sneak into the woods, and left Mr. +Silver Tip to his feast. You couldn’t have brushed +off a mosquito more calmly. I says to myself then +that it showed how sure of himself the grizzly is—he’s +king of the forest, all right.” +</p> +<p> +“And did you shoot him after that?” Lucy +asked. +</p> +<p> +“Sure I shot him.” +</p> +<p> +“I think you were real horrid,” she said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +</p> +<p> +“Maybe,” Mills answered. “But I’m still wearin’ +his skin in winter.” +</p> +<p> +“How many shots did it take?” asked one of the +congressmen. “I’ve always heard you have to +pump a grizzly full of lead, and then use a knife to +defend yourself, after your last shell is emptied.” +</p> +<p> +“The feller that told you that was a bum shot,” +said the Ranger. “’Course there are a lot of bum +shots come out here huntin’. One bullet, in the +brain, the upper part of the heart, or the right place +in the spine, will drop a silver tip like a sack o’ +grain. You’ve got to know where to hit, and you’ve +got to hit there, naturally. Trouble is, green hunters +get scared or rattled, and don’t aim right, and +half the time when they think they’re plugging the +bear they’re really peppering the rocks behind him. +I wouldn’t want to hunt ’em myself with a single +shot rifle, but I could if I had to. A city chap in +one of our parties once, over in the Blackfeet forest, +smashed all four of a bear’s legs with bullets, and +then the bear, tryin’ to get away, fell into a stream +and drowned to death. Our cook asked the feller +why he didn’t chuck him in to start with, and save +shells.” +</p> +<p> +“When you going to show us a bear?” Bob demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Mercy, I do hope it isn’t very soon!” cried Bob’s +mother. “I’m sure <em>I</em> don’t want to meet one. I +don’t suppose there are any in the Park any +more.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, more ’n ever,” said the Ranger, managing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +a secret wink to Joe. “Why, there was two +women from Boston once, sitting in broad day on +the steep cut bank of a stream, and they heard +crashings in the bush, and looked back and seen a +big grizzly coming right toward ’em, and they yelled +like Comanches and fell right down the bank into +the water, and waded across up to their necks and +beat it back to camp.” +</p> +<p> +“Better stick close to brave little Bobbie, ma,” +laughed her son. “I won’t let the naughty big bear +bite you. But when are you going to show me one, +Mr. Mills?” +</p> +<p> +“Day after to-morrow,” said the Ranger. +</p> +<p> +Joe pricked up his ears. It sounded as if Mills +meant it. +</p> +<p> +“Is that a threat or a promise?” Lucy asked. +</p> +<p> +“Promise for Bob, a threat for Mrs. Jones, I +guess,” said the Ranger, rising from the ground, +and adding, “Who’s ready for bed?” +</p> +<p> +“Better ask who isn’t,” somebody laughed. +</p> +<p> +Joe went as far out on the rocky spit into the lake +as he could get; he could see the dying camp-fire +gleaming red back under the trees; and all around +him, over the dim, starlit water, rose the majestic +mountains, great walls of shadow rearing up half-way +to the top of the sky. It was a still, solemn +scene, and he felt very small as he crouched by the +lake and cleaned his teeth in water that was almost +as cold as ice. +</p> +<p> +When he got back to camp every one was abed, +and he crawled into the tent with Mills and wrapped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +himself up in his blankets, with only his poncho for +a mattress, and almost before he had got his body +fitted into the unevennesses of the ground he was +fast asleep. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span><a name='chXI' id='chXI'></a>CHAPTER XI—To Gunsight Lake, and Joe Falls Into a Crevasse on Blackfeet Glacier</h2> +<p> +The Ranger was the first up in the morning. +He gave Joe a shake by the shoulder, and Joe +half opened one sleepy eye and said, “Aw, ma, it +ain’t time to get up yet.” +</p> +<p> +Then he heard Mills chuckle, and he realized +where he was. He looked at his watch, and saw +that it was almost six. Outside, it was broad daylight, +and the sun was flooding up the lake. +</p> +<p> +Joe sat up and threw back the blankets. “Golly, +I’m sore and stiff,” he said, rubbing himself. “Been +sleeping on a cot, and I’m soft, I guess.” +</p> +<p> +“You also did twenty-two miles yesterday,” Mills +remarked. “Well, I haven’t told ’em yet, but we’re +going to do only seven to-day, and then have a side +trip for the young folks. Guess Mother Jones will +want to stay in camp and help you get supper.” +</p> +<p> +“She’d better try!” cried Joe, springing up at the +word “supper,” for it reminded him that it was his +job to get breakfast. He had a quick wash in the +brook which ran past the camp, and set about making +some biscuit, bacon and eggs, coffee and flapjacks. +His fire was going merrily, and in its heat he had +begun to get warm (for the night chill was still in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +the air, and you could almost see your breath), when +he saw Congressman Elkins poking a sleepy face +out of the men’s tent flap, with his hair all tousled, +and his body bent half double. He spied the fire, +and made a hobble for it. +</p> +<p> +“Say, Joe, let me get some of that heat, will +you?” he said. +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” Joe laughed. “Didn’t you have blankets +enough?” +</p> +<p> +“I had five—ought to be enough, in the third +week of July, you’d think. But I shivered all night, +and every time I shivered a new branch in our +wonderful bough bed found a fresh spot on my +anatomy to puncture. I’m beginning to think Mrs. +Jones is right about this roughing it stuff.” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir, she isn’t,” Joe answered, as he set his +batter of biscuit over the fire. “Only you have to +learn how to do it, and get hardened to it a bit, too. +How’d you have the blankets?” +</p> +<p> +“How’d I have ’em? Over me, of course.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s the trouble,” said Joe. “The secret of +sleeping warm is to have ’em <em>under</em> you, too. +That’s where as much cold comes as from above, +even in a bed. You roll yourself up in ’em to-night +and see if you’re not warm.” +</p> +<p> +“Where’d you learn all this?” the congressman +asked. “You look pretty young to be a camp cook. +Live around here?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, sir, I live in Massachusetts. I learned +how to camp as a Boy Scout. My chum—another +scout—and I came out here this summer, because I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +was—I wasn’t very well. He’s got a job at Many +Glacier tepee camp, and I’m getting so well now +Mr. Mills got me to go as cook, ’cause I’d made +coffee and things for him and he knew I could cook.” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose you learned cooking as a scout, too, +eh?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” Joe answered, pouring out the ground +coffee into the pot. “I worked to get a merit badge +in cooking. You see, I could help mother with it, +too, when she was sick, or anything.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m beginning to have a better opinion of +the Boy Scouts every minute,” the man laughed, +sniffing the food and warming his hands by the +blaze. “I thought it was just a kind of fad.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, sir!” Joe cried. “Why, all our little +scouts, after a year, are lots better boys, and everybody +says it’s been a fine thing for the town!” +</p> +<p> +“Here, daddy, you stop bribing the cook to give +you breakfast in advance!” a laughing voice interrupted +them. Joe turned, and saw Lucy Elkins +coming from her tent. Her hair was down her +back, in brown waves, so that she looked almost +like a little girl, and she was smiling and bright and +gay as the morning sun. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose <em>you</em> slept well,” her father said, +“weren’t cold and no pine boughs in your ribs.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know,” she answered. “I slept so hard +I can’t tell whether I was cold or not. But I know +I’m hungry. Why don’t you wake everybody up, +Joe, and let’s get to business.” +</p> +<p> +She went off up the brook with her tooth-brush +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +and towel, and the Ranger, taking a pan, beat reveille +on it with two sticks. Other sleepy heads +emerged, Mrs. Jones last of all, looking very cross +and shivery. By the time they had all got fully +dressed and washed, and the girls had braided their +hair (letting the braids hang down their backs), the +two guides appeared. They had spent the night +just down the lake at the Sun Camp chalets, with +other guides, friends of theirs. +</p> +<p> +Joe set his eggs to cooking last of all, got the +dishes ready, poured the coffee, and then gave the +now familiar yell, +</p> +<p> +“Come and get it!” +</p> +<p> +That is a call in Glacier Park no one has to hear +a second time. Even Mrs. Jones perked up, and +stopped complaining about how cold she was, and +how she hated to clean her teeth in ice water, +and how she missed her morning bath, and silenced +her own tongue with a bite of bacon that was more +nourishing than ladylike in size. The breakfast disappeared +in double quick time, and Val went up the +hill for the horses, while Mills and Dick began to +strike the tents and arrange the packs, and Joe +cleaned his dishes and packed his provisions. +</p> +<p> +At half-past eight, the party was in the saddle +again, Mills at the head, and started up the trail, +along the lake shore, toward the gleaming white +field of Blackfeet Glacier and the red, snow-spangled +cone of Mount Jackson. +</p> +<p> +“Where are we bound to-day?” some one asked. +</p> +<p> +“Only seven miles, to Gunsight Lake,” the Ranger +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +answered. “I thought maybe you’d like an easy +stage to-day, and this afternoon those that wanted +to could go up on the glacier.” +</p> +<p> +“The man is almost intelligent!” Mrs. Jones exclaimed. +“Only seven miles—that sounds more +reasonable to me.” +</p> +<p> +They were seven easy miles, too, up a streamside +by an easy grade, a good deal of the way through +tall timber, and past a beaver dam, the first one Joe +had ever seen. It was made of small logs, twigs +and grasses, all matted together, and plastered neatly +and tightly with mud, and must have been a hundred +feet long and perhaps three feet high, so that a +considerable little pond had backed up behind it, in +which, rising above the water, were the huts, which +looked like larger and better built muskrat huts. +Joe pulled down his horse to a slow walk as he +passed, and saw the little canals the beavers had +made, leading from the bed of the stream back into +the willow and aspen swamp. He figured out that +the chief reason the beavers build dams is so they +can flood such a grove of young willows, aspens, +etc., and float out the tiny logs they cut (the young +shoots, with tender bark), to their houses, where they +store them for winter food. Later he asked Mills, +and found he was right. When the beavers can +find deep water, with food trees right on the bank, +they will not bother to make dams. +</p> +<p> +Joe lingered till Val yelled at him to “get a move +on,” hoping he might see one of the little animals at +work, but the beaver works mostly at night when he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +has to be above water, and not one was now to be +seen. +</p> +<p> +It was a short, easy trip to Gunsight Lake, and +they reached the open meadow at its foot by eleven +o’clock. The lake, a smallish one, lay at the bottom +of a great horseshoe amphitheatre. If you will imagine +the Harvard stadium two or three miles long +instead of two or three hundred yards, with sides +almost precipitous and three thousand feet high, and +a green lake where the football gridiron is, you have +a picture of Gunsight. The closed end of the horseshoe +was the Divide, and that was where the Gunsight +Pass lay, over which they would climb to-morrow. +The north side was Fusillade Mountain, the +south side was the great shoulder of Mount Jackson +(the summit being invisible from this point). The +meadow where they were to camp was just out at +the open end, where they could see around the shoulder +of Jackson to the glittering field of Blackfeet +Glacier, the largest in the Park, hung on the upper +slopes of the Divide, to the southwest, and where, +behind them, rose the huge cliffs of Citadel Mountain, +which is exactly like old Fort Sumter or the +old fort on Governor’s Island, enlarged to the “<em>nth</em>” +power. (If you don’t know what “enlarged to the +<em>nth</em> power” means, it’s either because you have not +studied your algebra, or have not reached algebra +yet.) The floor of the meadow was full of wild +flowers, especially the great, tall white spikes of the +Indian basket grass, and full, too, of low balsams +and pines. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +</p> +<p> +Close to the shore of the lake lay a big pile of +lumber, old, twisted iron beds, half a cook-stove, and +the like. +</p> +<p> +“What on earth happened here?” asked Mrs. +Elkins. +</p> +<p> +“Avalanche,” said the Ranger. “Was a chalet +here—Gunsight chalet. In the winter of 1915-16 a +snowslide started down Jackson, and this is what’s +left.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, heavens!” Mrs. Jones cried, looking up the +red precipices of Jackson to the snow-fields far above, +“do you suppose there’ll be another one?” +</p> +<p> +“We don’t often have ’em in July, marm,” said +Mills briefly, “but you never can tell,” and he winked +at Joe. +</p> +<p> +They now pitched tents near the lake, and Joe set +about cooking a hot lunch, for he had plenty of time. +While the water was heating, he got some boards +from the pile of wreckage, and made a rough table +and benches. Then he started out to gather some +flowers. Lucy and Alice saw him, and came to help. +The three of them, in ten minutes, found thirty different +kinds of flowers, all in a space of two or three +hundred feet, and made three bunches, which they +stood in tin cans on the table, and then put little +pine boughs around the cans “to camouflage them,” +as Joe said. +</p> +<p> +“I told you Joe was a poet,” Lucy said to Alice. +“I’ll bet he’ll produce a table-cloth in a minute.” +</p> +<p> +“Can’t do that,” Joe laughed, “unless you’ll climb +up and get me one of those up there——” and he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +gestured toward the white snow-fields far up the +cliffs, which did, indeed, look like huge sheets, or +table-cloths, flung on the rocky ledges to dry. +</p> +<p> +As soon as the tents were pitched, and lunch was +over, Mills said: +</p> +<p> +“Well, who wants to go up to Blackfeet Glacier?” +</p> +<p> +“I do!” from Bob. +</p> +<p> +“I do!” from Lucy. +</p> +<p> +“I do!” from Alice. +</p> +<p> +“I do, if I can go on horseback,” from Mr. Elkins. +</p> +<p> +“Same as Elkins,” from Mr. Jones. +</p> +<p> +“I want to sit still,” from Mrs. Jones. +</p> +<p> +“I couldn’t leave Mrs. Jones all alone,” from Mrs. +Elkins. +</p> +<p> +“You haven’t spoken, Joe,” said Lucy. +</p> +<p> +Poor Joe—how he wanted to climb up and see a +real glacier! But he smiled bravely and cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +“I shall have to stay and get dinner,” he answered. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that’s too bad! I just <em>know</em> you’re dying to +see the glacier. Mr. Mills, wouldn’t we be back in +time for Joe to get dinner, if he went?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, we might be, if dinner was a bit late, and +you didn’t have a roast turkey,” the Ranger said. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I move we have late dinner, and take Joe +along. All in favor, say aye.” +</p> +<p> +Bob and Alice yelled “Aye!” and Mr. Elkins said, +“Jones and I are paired, so it’s a vote.” +</p> +<p> +Joe tried to say some word of thanks to Lucy, but +he couldn’t manage it. Besides, he had no time, for +Mrs. Jones broke in: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’d like to know if you expect Mrs. Elkins +and me to stay here all alone?” +</p> +<p> +“You might be getting the dinner, Martha,” her +husband grinned. +</p> +<p> +“Val will stay in camp,” Mills said. “He’s fed up +on glaciers, anyhow, ain’t you, Val?” +</p> +<p> +The young cowboy nodded. “You can have ’em +all,” he said, “and welcome.” +</p> +<p> +So Joe found himself in the small party headed for +Blackfeet Glacier, as soon as he had put his stew to +simmer over a small fire, which Val promised to keep +going. Mills took three of the strongest ropes from +the packs, and they set off up the steep, rough trail +climbing the shoulder of Jackson. They soon had a +superb view below them, first of the meadow, with +their own tents like white dots in it, and then back +down the cañon to St. Mary Lake, and the great pink +and gray pyramid of Going-to-the-Sun Mountain. +But it was not long before every one stopped looking +at the view, and paid entire attention to the trail. +This was a side trail, not one of the regular tourist +highways, and it was not built for comfort. It was +tremendously steep, and very rough, more like a +flight of high, irregular stone steps than a path. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I think this is terrible on the poor horses!” +Lucy said, as her horse scrambled up a rock, and +she had to cling to his mane to stick on the +saddle. +</p> +<p> +“Get out and walk, then,” Mills called back. +“Grab hold of your horse’s tail, and let him pull you +up.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +</p> +<p> +“Say, what you giving us?” said Bob. “Think +I want to go down the hill again backwards?” +</p> +<p> +Mills laughed. “Think these horses are mules?” +he answered. “See, this is the way.” +</p> +<p> +He got off his horse, grabbed it by the tail, and +to everybody’s surprised amusement, the horse +started up, with the Ranger scrambling behind him, +half climbing, half being pulled along. +</p> +<p> +Every one else got off, too, and in single file, each +person clinging to his horse’s tail, they began +the ascent again. The horses, being considerably +longer legged than men, climbed faster up the high +steps than a man could do alone, but with the horse’s +tail to hang on to, you could manage to keep up. +Everybody laughed at first, yelling at one another, +but in three minutes the yells had ceased, and in +five, the laughter. No one had any breath left for +that. If Joe had thought, he probably would have +been frightened, for he was certainly disobeying the +doctor, but he was having too good a time to remember +doctors, and as even the lack of breath did +not make him cough, he had nothing to remind him. +Panting, covered with perspiration, the two congressmen +were about ready to quit. They presently +reached a more level place, a high upland meadow +covered with flowers, and mounting again rode up +and across this, and came at last near the lower edge +of a great snow-field, which stretched away southward +for three miles, broken here and there by peninsulas +and islands of rock, and stretched upward clear to +the summit of the Divide over their heads, at an angle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> +of about forty-five degrees at first, but much +steeper near the top. +</p> +<p> +“The biggest glacier in the Park,” said Mills. +</p> +<p> +“Where?” said Mr. Elkins. “All I see is snow.” +</p> +<p> +“I know it—too bad, but we had so much snow +last winter it’s not melted off yet. But take my word +for it, that’s all ice underneath.” +</p> +<p> +“Hooray, let’s climb out on it!” Bob shouted. +</p> +<p> +“Not for me—I’ve climbed enough to-day,” his +father said, still puffing. +</p> +<p> +It ended with the two congressmen resting in the +meadow, while Mills, Dick the guide, Joe, the girls, +and Bob, climbed up some way over the rocks without +any trail, and reached at length a place where +the vast snow-field seemed to be sliding down past +them, like a huge, silent river. Of course, it did not +move, but it gave that illusion. +</p> +<p> +“What a place to ski!” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Wow!” yelled Bob, “you bet! You’d get some +jump at the bottom, too.” +</p> +<p> +Mills grinned. “About as far as whichever place +you’re going to when you die,” he said, as he began +to uncoil his three ropes, fastening them together. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the big idea?” asked Bob. “That +snow’s soft; you wouldn’t slip in that.” +</p> +<p> +And, to prove it, he started down the rocks, and +out on to the snow-covered glacier. +</p> +<p> +Mills suddenly spoke with a sharp note Joe had +never heard him use. +</p> +<p> +“Come back here!” he said. +</p> +<p> +Bob came. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +</p> +<p> +“Now, Joe,” he said, “you go first on the rope, +because you’ve got spikes in your shoes. We’ve +got to look out for crevasses. Sound your footing +when it looks suspicious. We’d need Alpine stocks +to go far.” +</p> +<p> +He fastened one end under Joe’s arms. +</p> +<p> +“You next, Dick, to brace if Joe goes under. +Then the rest of you, and I’ll be the rear anchor.” +</p> +<p> +He made the rope fast around Dick, twenty feet +behind Joe, then told Bob and the girls to hold it +fast at equal intervals, and fastened the rear end +around his own waist +</p> +<p> +“Now, Joe, let her go,” he said. +</p> +<p> +Joe went down the rocks, and out on the great +snow-field, tilted like the roof of a house. It was +soft, as Bob had said, but not like ordinary soft snow. +It was more like walking in cold, wet, rock salt, and +the footing was anything but sure. Joe went cautiously, +slowly climbing upward and outward at the +same time, and as he looked below him, down that +smooth, glistening, white slope, and realized that if +he once got started sliding he would probably go +half a mile and shoot off the lower edge into space, +he felt his heart, for a minute, go down somewhere +into his boots. So he looked up, instead of downward, +and felt better. +</p> +<p> +Everything went well for some hundreds of yards, +and the whole party, on their rope, were well out on +the great snow-field, when Joe saw just ahead of him +a very slight depression in the snow. Bracing with +his right foot, he put his left forward, and hit this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +depression smartly. It caved in! He tried to spring +back, yelling to Dick to brace, but his right foot, +with nothing but snow for the spikes to hold in, +slipped, and he felt himself going down. He had no +time to think, only just a terrible flash in his brain +of accidents he had read about to Alpine climbers, +before the rope caught him under the armpits with a +cruel yank; he hung for a minute surrounded by the +wet, cold snow which was falling down his neck, and +then he felt himself being tugged up again by Dick. +</p> +<p> +Mills had come up, bringing the rope around Bob +and the girls in a loop, by the time Dick had him +out. +</p> +<p> +“Hurt?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +Joe was poking snow out of his neck, and loosening +the grip of the rope under his arms. +</p> +<p> +“I—I guess not!” he panted. “Gee, that gave +me some surprise, though. I thought something +was coming, and tested it with one foot, but the +other slipped.” +</p> +<p> +“We ought to have ice axes,” Mills said. “The +snow’s getting too thin. Back’s the word.” +</p> +<p> +Joe looked around at the rest of the party, and +saw that Lucy and Alice had turned deadly pale, +and even Bob was looking sober. +</p> +<p> +“Are you sure you aren’t hurt, Joe?” Lucy +asked. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll get dinner, O.K.,” Joe answered. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile Mills had approached the hole where +Joe went under, and called the rest to come and look, +one by one, while he and Dick braced the rope. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +</p> +<p> +Joe looked, too. His fall had collapsed a snow +bridge over a crevasse, and through the hole, which +was six feet wide or more, they could see down +through a layer of snow into what looked like a +bottomless slit between walls of dirty green ice. A +cold, damp, chilling breath came up from the hole, +and far below they could hear water running. +</p> +<p> +“Now you get the big idea, Bob, eh?” said Mills. +“See why we had the rope?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and I bet old cookie’s glad it was a strong +one,” Bob replied. “Say, I wish it had been me’d +been ahead!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, do you?” the Ranger laughed. “Want to +be lowered down?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no—Mr. Mills!” Alice cried. +</p> +<p> +“Cheer up, he wouldn’t let me,” Mills grinned. +“Besides, he’s too fat and heavy to pull up again.” +</p> +<p> +“If a feller fell down there, and they didn’t get +him up, and he froze into the ice, would he come +out some time at the bottom of the glacier?” Bob +asked. +</p> +<p> +“I guess he would,” said Mills, “but his widow +might get tired waiting and marry again.” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Mills, you’re perfectly awful” said Lucy, +with a shudder. “Take us back from this horrid +place.” +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i004' id='i004'></a> +<img src="images/illus-142.jpg" alt="Crevasse in Blackfeet Glacier" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Crevasse in Blackfeet Glacier</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span></div> +<p> +They went back carefully in their own tracks, and +rejoined the congressmen, who, it seemed, had +climbed where they could watch, and had seen the +whole thing from a distance. There was much excited +talk about Joe’s experience all the way down +(on the down trip they led their horses over the +steep part, needing no help on the descent), and +Joe, sore as he was under the arms and rather +shaky from the shock, began to feel like quite a +hero. In fact, by the time they reached the level +meadows at camp, it did not seem terrible at all, and +every one had begun to enjoy it. +</p> +<p> +“Except me,” said Lucy. “I shall dream all +night of the way poor Joe’s head went suddenly out +of sight, and I saw Dick bracing on that rope and +wondered if it would hold!” +</p> +<p> +“The moral is,” said her father, “have a good +rope.” +</p> +<p> +“I should say the moral was, don’t climb in foolish +places,” Mrs. Jones declared, for the two women had +of course been told the story at once. +</p> +<p> +“Gee, ma,” Bob declared, “if everybody was like +you, we wouldn’t know there were any Rocky Mountains. +Somebody’s got to take a chance!” +</p> +<p> +Mills had said nothing. Now he spoke, in his +brief, quiet way. +</p> +<p> +“It was a sound rope. Nobody took a chance,” +he said. “We don’t let ’em in the Park.” +</p> +<p> +There did not seem to be any reply to this. The +girls went into their tent to rest, Joe changed his wet +boots—which were soaked with the snow—and his +wet shirt, and set busily about getting dinner. After +all, he was the cook, and there was no further time +for being a hero. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span><a name='chXII' id='chXII'></a>CHAPTER XII—Over Gunsight to Lake McDonald, and Joe and Bob See a Grizzly at Close Range</h2> +<p> +There was no story telling that night. Dinner +was late, and afterwards the dusk came earlier +up here under the shadows of the great cliffs, and +every one except the two women was glad enough +to crawl in early. Joe was gladdest of all. He had +to confess that he was tired, as well as sore—and +now he realized that he had disobeyed all orders not +to climb and take strenuous exercise. But he felt +of his head, as his mother used to do, and could +detect no fever, and he had not coughed once, so he +did not worry enough to keep himself awake more +than one minute and a quarter. In the morning, he +was awake almost as soon as the Ranger, and sat +up feeling fine. Lucy was the next up, as usual, +and once more her cheerful self. She gathered fresh +wild flowers—a great bunch of yellow columbine +and blue false forget-me-nots, for the “table,” while +Joe was cooking, and asked him how he felt, and +sang softly to herself, and then asked him again if +the fresh, clear, morning air way up here in these +high mountains was not the most wonderful thing in +the world. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +</p> +<p> +“It’s medicine to me, all right,” Joe answered, +looking up and watching the sun come over the rock +bastions of Citadel and turn to pink and gold the +snow-fields on Fusillade. “Gee, I think mountains—big +mountains—are just the best ever!” +</p> +<p> +“The best ever, that’s what they are, Joe, and +you’re going back East so big and strong that your +own mother won’t know you. You must write to +me and tell me about it, won’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“You bet I will,” Joe replied, turning red over his +fire. It certainly was almost like being home to +have some one like Lucy Elkins be so interested in +him, and kindly and sweet. The fire was very +smoky, and got into Joe’s eyes, and he had to wipe +them—but Lucy did not see, or, if she did, she pretended +not to. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Mills, after breakfast, “everybody +pack. We’ve got a long day ahead of us, if we stop +any time to see the sights.” +</p> +<p> +“And where are we going?” somebody asked. +</p> +<p> +“Over Gunsight Pass, and down to Lake McDonald,” +the Ranger answered, pointing up to the Great +Divide at the head of Gunsight Lake. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean to tell me we are going over that +place?” demanded Mrs. Jones. +</p> +<p> +“Why not?” said Mills. +</p> +<p> +“Why not? Well, I’m not one of these Rocky +Mountain goats I hear about.” +</p> +<p> +“Your horse is,” the Ranger laughed. +</p> +<p> +As soon as camp was struck, and the horses +brought from the upper meadows, where they had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +wandered in the night, and packed, the party started +up the trail. +</p> +<p> +“Gunsight Pass—I like that name,” said Bob. +“But how did it get the name?” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll see when we reach it,” Mills replied. +</p> +<p> +The trail over Gunsight is one of the most interesting +in the entire Park. The head wall of the +horseshoe of rocks which holds the green lake is too +steep to climb, so the path gets to the summit by +working up the shoulder of Jackson, in a long series +of inclines, with sharp, steep switchbacks every little +way, to boost it a little higher up the steep slope. +</p> +<p> +After climbing for, perhaps, two miles, they +reached what appeared to be the level of the Divide +ahead of them, but they were still around on one +side of the horseshoe, and had to make their way +along the tremendously steep wall of the mountain +till they got to the pass at the centre. Between them +and this pass lay a huge snow-field, two hundred +yards wide, and extending half a mile up the slope, +and as far down, and ending at the bottom right on +the top of a precipice, which dropped off into the +lake. They could hear the melting water from this +snow-field falling down far, far below, over the precipice. +</p> +<p> +Mills stopped his horse, and studied the ground, +while the two women looked at the steep, gleaming, +slippery field of snow, steeper than a house roof, at +the yawning hole at the bottom, and declared in loud +tones that they would <em>not</em> go across. +</p> +<p> +But other parties had been across, and somebody +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +had shoveled out a path, about three feet wide, to +make level footing for the horses. Still, even so, it +was a ticklish place, for if a horse once slid off, there +would be no stopping him short of the lake two +thousand feet below. +</p> +<p> +“Everybody off!” Mills ordered. +</p> +<p> +“Joe, Dick, Val,” he commanded, “lead all the +horses over, one at a time, and then two of you +come back.” +</p> +<p> +After the horses were across—and they did not +have the least fear, even when one of their feet +would cut through the soft snow, and they appeared +to be in danger of slipping—Joe and Dick returned, +and, with Mills, led the two women and the girls +over, and helped them back into their saddles. Bob +and the two congressmen came alone, and in the +centre of the slide, Bob made a big snowball, and let +it roll down. Inside of a hundred feet it appeared +to be traveling a mile a minute, growing bigger all +the time, and finally it hit a rock at the bottom with +a loud report, and the broken pieces flew out over +the hole below. +</p> +<p> +“Say, Joe,” he called, “great place for skis, +eh?” +</p> +<p> +Joe laughed, but not very mirthfully. The thought +of going down that slope on skis made you sick in +the pit of your stomach. +</p> +<p> +It was but a few steps now, around a hanging +ledge, to the pass, and as they came out into the +small level space on top of the Divide, they saw in +front of them, forming the northern gate-post of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +pass, as it were, a big rock pile shaped exactly like +the front sight of a rifle—a sight several hundred +feet high. +</p> +<p> +“Now you see why it’s Gunsight Pass,” said Mills +to Bob. +</p> +<p> +“Some gun!” the boy answered. +</p> +<p> +Those ahead moved to the western side of the +Divide, and suddenly Joe heard the girls screaming +with delight. As soon as he got there, he realized +why, for never before had he seen anywhere such a +wonderful view. +</p> +<p> +Right below them, eight hundred or a thousand +feet, lay the loveliest little lake in all the world, oval +in shape, a beautiful green in color, possibly half or +three-quarters of a mile long. Out of one side sprang +up the red precipices of Mount Jackson, from the +upper end rose the wall of the Divide to their feet, +on the other side, sweeping around in a circular +curve carved by some ancient glacier as smooth as a +drill hole, was the precipice of Gunsight Mountain. +At the farther end of the lake the land just dropped +away out of sight, and far off in the distance they +could see range after range of purple mountains. +Right at their feet, almost at the top of the Divide, +was a pine tree, the only one, the very outmost +sentinel of timber-line. It was only eight feet tall, +though the trunk was two feet thick, and it was torn +and twisted and gnarled by the winds till it looked +like a grim old fighter who had left all the rest of +his company far below and battled his way on up, +almost to the top. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i005' id='i005'></a> +<img src="images/illus-148.jpg" alt="Party Crossing Near Top of Gunsight Pass" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Party Crossing Near Top of Gunsight Pass</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span></div> +<p> +Even Mrs. Jones stopped her horse and admired +this view. +</p> +<p> +“It’s really worth coming for,” she said. +</p> +<p> +“And how she hates to admit it,” Val whispered +in Joe’s ear, for the whole party was now gathered +together on the edge, looking at the prospect. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the name of that heavenly little lake?” +Lucy asked. +</p> +<p> +“Lake Ellen Wilson,” Mills answered. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear, it shouldn’t be—it ought to have a +beautiful Indian name, like Eye-of-the-morning, or +something,” said she. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s name it Lake Lucy Elkins,” Bob suggested. +“Seems to suit you.” +</p> +<p> +Joe thought so, too, but he did not say anything. +</p> +<p> +Lucy laughed. “If we only <em>could</em> rename it,” she +answered, “I certainly would find a pretty Indian +name. I think it’s terrible, the way we take the +land away from the Indians first, and then give +everything new names, in the bargain.” +</p> +<p> +The trail now descended in switchbacks to the +very shore of the lake, for, although it had to climb +up again at the lower, west side, the precipices were +so steep in between that the only way to get from +one point to the other was to descend to the shore. +</p> +<p> +“And this water is really going to the Pacific +Ocean,” said Mr. Jones, as they reached the lake. +“We are over the Great Divide, Bob!” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I feel a change in the climate,” the irrepressible +Bob answered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +</p> +<p> +“That’s not such a joke as you think, at that,” Mills +said. “The climate is different over here, as you’ll +see presently.” +</p> +<p> +They had still another pass to go over—Lincoln +Pass (not a part of the Divide) before they could +begin the final descent to Lake McDonald, and from +the lake shore they began to climb again, with the +green water between them and the tremendous red +walls of Jackson, where long, narrow snow-fields +clung in the hollows. At the top of Lincoln Pass +was a meadow, on the edge of a precipice, a meadow +full of snow-fields, wild flowers, and a few stunted, +twisted pines, for it was on the very edge of timber-line. +Here Mills ordered a halt for lunch. +</p> +<p> +“Charlie Chaplin sandwiches again, Joe,” he said. +“You can make tea if you want to, and can find any +wood.” +</p> +<p> +Joe and Bob and the girls between them managed +to scrape together enough dead wood to make a +small fire, and the water Joe got from the little brook +flowing out from under a snow-field and starting on +its long journey to the Pacific Ocean. +</p> +<p> +After lunch, everybody wanted to sit around for a +bit, and enjoy the view of Lake Ellen Wilson and +Mount Jackson, and Joe and Lucy got their cameras +from their packs, and took pictures of each other on +horseback, of the party, of Bob and Alice climbing +down over an edge of the cliff beside a waterfall, and +finally of a wonderful, twisted pine. +</p> +<p> +“I love the old trees at timber-line,” Joe said. +“They look so sort of—of heroic.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +</p> +<p> +“Guess they are, all right,” Bob laughed. “I’d +feel heroic if I stood up here in winter!” +</p> +<p> +Almost as soon as they started again, they began +to drop down a steep, rocky trail to the Sperry camp, +a chalet built up on the slopes to accommodate the +people who want to climb over the Divide just behind +it to Sperry Glacier; and then to drop, by a wide, +good trail, past rushing brooks, into the first real +forest Joe had seen. The climate certainly <em>was</em> different +over here—he began to feel it. It seemed +warmer, and the air wasn’t quite so vividly clear. +There was a faint suggestion of haze over the lower +blue ranges out to the west. It must be different, +he told himself, there must be more rainfall, anyhow, +and less severe winter cold, or the trees wouldn’t be +so much larger. +</p> +<p> +Down and down they dropped, through spruces +and pines and larches, growing ever taller and larger, +till suddenly the trail went into the most wonderful +forest Joe had ever seen. It was entirely composed +of one kind of tree, tall, straight, ghostly gray trees, +with a thin bark that shredded in strips on the smaller +trunks; and these trees grew so thickly together +that their tops made a solid canopy over the ground +below, shutting out all sunlight, so that it was almost +twilight deep in the heart of the forest. Not a living +thing grew on the forest floor; it was simply a +carpet of brownish, tiny needle-like dead leaves, and +of dead sticks and fallen tree trunks. +</p> +<p> +Joe heard Lucy, ahead of him, saying it reminded +her of the woods that Hop-o’-my-thumb and his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +brother got lost in. It reminded him of some great +forest he once dreamed about in a nightmare; and +yet it was beautiful, because of the ghostly gray of +the tall trees, and the utter hush and silence of its +dim recesses. +</p> +<p> +“What kind of trees are these?” he called back +to Val. “They look like some sort of cedar.” +</p> +<p> +“You can search me,” Val answered. “I couldn’t +tell a tree from a cauliflower. Great place for bears, +though.” +</p> +<p> +The trail here was so wide that Joe could trot +ahead and ask Mills. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, they are cedars,” Mills said. “They call +’em white cedars, I believe. The wood is much +softer than your slow-growing cedar in the East. +It’s a great forest, isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“Makes me sure I want to be a forest ranger,” +Joe answered. “Val says it’s a great place for +bears.” +</p> +<p> +“Hi, bears, ma!” yelled Bob. “Val says there’s +lots of ’em here. Say, Mr. Mills, how soon are you +going to show us that bear? You know you promised +one to-day.” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll see it yet—I never break a promise,” the +Ranger answered. +</p> +<p> +They rode on, down through the cedar forest, for +a mile more, and suddenly saw light through the +trees ahead, trotted into a clearing, and almost immediately +found themselves by a good-sized hotel, +built out of this very cedar lumber, and on the shore +of a big lake. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +</p> +<p> +“Lake McDonald,” said the Ranger. +</p> +<p> +“<em>And</em> a hotel!” cried Mrs. Jones. “You can all +camp where you like, but <em>I’m</em> going to have a room +with a bath to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t mind one myself,” said her husband. +</p> +<p> +“Me, too,” the other congressman put in. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I suppose that means we have to sleep in +a stuffy old room to-night, Alice,” said Lucy, “and +eat in a dining-room with a lot of people. Oh, dear, +I prefer Joe’s cooking!” +</p> +<p> +“Looks as if you were going to have a snap to-night, +Joe,” said Mills. “You want a room with a +bath, too?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no,” said Joe. “I’m going to take my +blankets up into those cedars and sleep.” +</p> +<p> +“You are?” Bob cried. “Then I’m with you. +We won’t be quitters, anyhow. Us for the rough +life—and the bears.” +</p> +<p> +“No, Bob, you’ll come to the hotel with the rest +of us,” said his mother. +</p> +<p> +“Aw, no, ma, let me go with Joe! Gee whiz, +here we come three thousand miles to rough it in +the Rocky Mountains and you go and bunk up in a +flossy hotel—roughing it with hot and cold water, +and a valet to black your boots!” +</p> +<p> +Everybody laughed, and Mr. Jones said, “Let the +boy have a good time, mother. I guess he’ll fare as +well with Joe as he would in the hotel. Joe’s a Boy +Scout, aren’t you, Joe?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” Joe answered. +</p> +<p> +It was finally settled that way, and while the party +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +went into the hotel to get their rooms, Joe, the +guides and Mills unpacked the horses and stabled +them, took the dunnage bags of the party to the +hotel, and all but Joe found their quarters in the +annex. Joe picked out blankets for two, an axe, +some grub and a few cooking utensils, and as soon +as Bob came back, the two boys carted them back +a few hundred yards into the deep woods, in a wild +spot well off the trail, made themselves a fire pit +against a big stone, which was so covered with +green moss they first thought it was a stump, spread +Joe’s poncho for a bed, on a raked up and smoothed +heap of the dead needles, and then went back to +have a look at the lake before supper. +</p> +<p> +It was still early, and the girls were out on the +pier in front. Bob spied a canoe for hire, and +promptly engaged it. They all four got in, with +Joe as bow paddle and Bob as stern, and paddled +straight out into the lake, which was quiet now as +the wind died down with the setting sun. As they +drew away from the shore, they began to realize +what a big lake it is—ten or twelve miles long, with +great, dark cedar and evergreen forests coming right +down to the water’s edge, and by the time they were +near the middle, they saw how above these forests +here at the upper end rose peak after snow-covered +peak, piling up to the Great Divide. +</p> +<p> +“It looks like a lake in Switzerland, doesn’t it?” +said Alice. +</p> +<p> +Joe, of course, had never been to Switzerland, so +he looked all the harder. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +</p> +<p> +“Only I like it better,” Lucy answered, “because +here, except for the hotel and those few cottages near +it, you don’t see anything but forest and wilderness. +It’s so wild and lonely! Oh, dear, I’d like to <em>live</em> +here!” +</p> +<p> +“I’d like to sail an ice boat here in winter!” said +Bob. +</p> +<p> +“And I’d like to fish here now,” said Joe, as a +fish jumped half out of the water just ahead of the +canoe. +</p> +<p> +“Fish! Hooray! Say, Joe,” Bob called, “if I get +a fish early to-morrow, will you cook him for breakfast?” +</p> +<p> +“You bet!” +</p> +<p> +“You horrid things,” said Alice. “We’ll probably +be eating breakfast food and canned peaches in +the hotel. I hope you don’t get your old fish.” +</p> +<p> +“Ain’t that just like a girl!” said Bob. +</p> +<p> +They paddled slowly and reluctantly back, as the +sunset lit the snow-fields on the great peaks to the +east, and turned them pink. The supper gong rang +as they landed. +</p> +<p> +“Now, Bob, be back right after supper, if you want +to see that bear,” Mills called, and Joe and Bob hurried +to their camp to get a quick supper. +</p> +<p> +All they bothered with was soup, some fried ham, +and pancakes, with tea. They had large quantities +of those things, however, and didn’t stop to wash the +dishes. +</p> +<p> +“This is no time to be fussy,” Bob said. “I’ll +never tell. We gotter see old Mr. Bear.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +</p> +<p> +So they hurried back to the trail, where Joe took +out a handkerchief, and tied it to a branch. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the big idea?” Bob demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Well, it’s so dark here now you can just barely +see the trail,” Joe said. “We could never tell where +to turn off by the time we get back. Don’t want to +be hunting all night for our camp.” +</p> +<p> +“I get you, Sherlocko,” Bob replied. “Now for +the bear. Hurry up!” +</p> +<p> +The entire party was waiting when they reached +the hotel, and Mills led the way, back by another +road into the cedars, which were now very dark. A +lot of other guests were moving in the same direction. +After a way, a strong smell began to assault +the nose. +</p> +<p> +“Smells to me like swill,” said Bob. +</p> +<p> +“Garbage, Robert, is a nicer word,” said his mother. +</p> +<p> +“Well, it doesn’t change the smell any,” he answered. +</p> +<p> +Mills said nothing, but walked on, while the smell +grew stronger, and in a moment, by the dim light, +they saw that the hotel garbage had been dumped +on both sides of the roadway. Just ahead a group +of people had stopped, and Mills led the way up to +this group. +</p> +<p> +“There,” said he, “I promised you one, but I see +five.” +</p> +<p> +“Where? I don’t see anything,” said Congressman +Elkins. +</p> +<p> +He was standing on the extreme edge of the road, +and just as he spoke something big and dark and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +mysterious gave a grunt and with a crash of broken +sticks reared up not six feet from him. +</p> +<p> +The congressman jumped back and nearly upset +Mrs. Jones, who screamed. +</p> +<p> +At her scream, two other dark forms close to the +road moved, and in the dim light the party could see +one of these forms go ten feet up the trunk of a half +fallen tree. Peering into the dark of the woods, Joe +could at last count, as the Ranger said, five bears, +two of them huge ones, three smaller (including the +one up the tree), and not one of them more than fifty +feet away. +</p> +<p> +“The two big ones are silver tips?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” said Mills. “Want to pat one?” +</p> +<p> +“No, thanks.” +</p> +<p> +“I must say, bears are dirty animals, if this is what +they eat,” Mrs. Jones put in, sniffing. “I don’t think +I like them so near me.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m sure <em>I</em> don’t,” Mr. Elkins laughed. “Of +course, I know these are tame, and all that, but—well, +it’s like the dog the man said wouldn’t bite. +‘I know it, and you know it,’ said the other fellow, +‘but does the dog know it?’” +</p> +<p> +Just then the big grizzly nearest them, which was +standing on his hind legs, gave a low, snarling growl, +as if he was mad at being disturbed at supper, and +Mrs. Jones announced determinedly that she was +going back. +</p> +<p> +And she went. Joe, Bob, and the girls wanted +to linger, but the older people called them, and they +had to go. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, <em>that</em> wasn’t very exciting!” Bob complained. +“Gee, you could have patted ’em, ’most. +I wanted to see you shoot one, Mr. Mills.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d as soon shoot a cow as a tame bear,” the +Ranger told him. “You can’t shoot anything but +lions and coyotes in the Park, and only Rangers can +shoot them. We’re protecting game here, not killing +it.” +</p> +<p> +“Wouldn’t you kill a bear if it came for you?” +</p> +<p> +Mills laughed. “I’d try a tree first,” he said. +</p> +<p> +But Joe had noted that all the time he stood near +the bears, he had his hand on his hip, where his big +automatic rested in its holster; and the scout suspected +that he wasn’t quite so sure about the bears +being entirely tame as he pretended. +</p> +<p> +Back at the hotel, the first thing they saw was +Val, in the lobby, with a clean shave, his hair cut and +plastered down in a smooth part, a clean shirt and a +bright red necktie on, and his best white fur chaps, +with silver buckles, on his legs. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, look at Val, all dressed up like Astor’s +horse!” Bob shouted. +</p> +<p> +“Where are you going, Val?” the girls demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, down to the big struggle,” said the young +cowboy. +</p> +<p> +“The <em>what</em>?” they asked. +</p> +<p> +“The big struggle—the dance,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“A dance? A dance? Where?” +</p> +<p> +“Down to the hall. Better come.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure—come, Joe, come, Bob,” Lucy cried, and +grabbing poor Joe by the hand—for Joe was scared +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +stiff at a dance, being a poor performer, and besides, +he had on his worn scout suit and heavy boots—she +led him off, while Alice grabbed her equally reluctant +brother. +</p> +<p> +The hall was a little annex to the hotel, and when +they got there the piano was going, and a lot of +people, cowboy guides, waitresses, guests, everybody, +was dancing. Almost nobody was dressed up +for a party as we dress in the East—any kind of +rough clothes and stout boots went here, alongside +of silk dresses and satin slippers, worn by some of +the hotel guests. +</p> +<p> +“Gee, I can’t dance any more ’n a cow,” Joe +stammered to Lucy. +</p> +<p> +“Nonsense,” she said, “I’ll bet you can dance +very nicely. Anyhow, you’ve got to try just one +with me.” +</p> +<p> +So they danced a one-step, and Joe managed to +get through it without treading on anybody’s toe. +</p> +<p> +“There—what did I tell you!” Lucy laughed. +“Of course you can dance. I don’t know why it is +boys always say they can’t.” +</p> +<p> +“I got around with you all right,” Joe answered. +“But with most girls I feel ’s if I had about twenty +pair o’ feet.” +</p> +<p> +“All you need is practice,” said she. +</p> +<p> +“Hi,” called Bob, who had been dancing with his +sister, “come over here and pipe the pantalettes!” +</p> +<p> +Joe and Lucy went into the alcove where he and +Alice were, and there they saw a stuffed and mounted +mountain goat—the first Joe had ever seen except in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +pictures. It stood about three feet high, with long, +pure white hair, hanging down in a beard under its +chin, and hanging down its legs to a point, as Bob +said, “just above the tops of its boots, if it wore +boots.” This hair on its legs did look exactly like +the pantalettes you see in pictures of little girls +back in the days before the Civil War. +</p> +<p> +“There ain’t no such animal!” Lucy laughed. +</p> +<p> +“I wish we could see one, alive,” said Bob. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to hunt one later with a camera—me +and Spider—he’s my chum up at Many Glacier.” +</p> +<p> +At the other end of the dance hall was a mounted +sheep—a big old ram, almost six inches taller than +the goat, with a magnificent pair of horns which +curved up, back, and around till the points touched +the base, making a complete circle. Even stuffed +and mounted, he was a magnificent creature, proud +and alert. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I think it’s a crime to kill such beautiful +animals!” Lucy exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +“Me, too,” said Joe. “I’d rather hunt ’em with a +camera, get a picture, and leave the animal alive for +somebody else to see.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, <em>I’d</em> like to have a head for my den,” said +Bob. “Wish they let you hunt in the Park.” +</p> +<p> +Joe and Bob were both so sleepy that they soon +left “the big struggle,” and started back for the +camp. It was almost pitch black now in the cedars, +and after they had walked up the trail as far as they +thought was right, they had to hunt some minutes +before they found the handkerchief. Turning off +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +from the path, they stumbled through the woods till +they caught the glimmer of red coals from their fire, +threw on some fresh wood to get light, and prepared +for bed. Rolled up tight in their blankets, they were +soon fast asleep. +</p> +<p> +It was still pitch dark, and it seemed as if he’d just +gone to sleep, when Joe was awakened by a noise +close by. He felt as much as heard the presence of +somebody or something. The fire had again died +down to a heap of coals, and only a faint red glow +dimly lit the base of the great, ghostly tree trunks +close around. Joe sat up, straining every nerve of +eye and ear. Suddenly a dead stick broke with a +loud snap not far away, on the side toward the provisions, +which had been placed in the fork of a half +fallen tree trunk. Bob woke up at this, with a jump +that brought him, too, into a sitting posture. +</p> +<p> +“Wha’s ’at?” he exclaimed, in the startled voice +of one half awake. +</p> +<p> +The answer was another crash of broken sticks +and a deep, guttural growl. At the same instant, by +a sudden flicker of flame from the fire, a ray of light +shot between the trees and in a flash that was gone +almost as quickly as it came, the two boys saw a +gigantic shadowy form rear up, it seemed to them +ten feet into the air. +</p> +<p> +“It’s a grizzly!” Bob yelled. +</p> +<p> +“Shut up!” Joe commanded. He reached over +to the bare ground beside him and grabbed a fistful +of dry needles and flung them on the fire. The +blaze jumped up again brighter, and for just a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +second they caught a flash of reflection like two +sparks, from the bear’s eyes, and then the great +shadowy bulk dropped down and they heard a +crashing through the woods, receding rapidly. +</p> +<p> +Joe threw off his blankets and piled wood on the +fire till it blazed brightly. Then he looked at Bob, +and laughed. The boy was still sitting up on the +poncho, his blankets half off, his mouth half open, +and his eyes big with fright. +</p> +<p> +“Brace up,” Joe said. “He was only after our +grub. They’re tame around here.” +</p> +<p> +“Tame your grandmother!” Bob retorted. “I +don’t care if they are. Do you think I’m goin’ to +sleep with a grizzly bear ’most under my bed?” +</p> +<p> +He began to get up. +</p> +<p> +“Where you going?” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Back to the hotel.” +</p> +<p> +“What good’ll that do? Nobody’ll be up to let +you in.” He looked at his watch. “It’s two +o’clock,” he added. +</p> +<p> +“Well, there’s a couple of hammocks on the veranda. +That’s good enough for yours truly.” +</p> +<p> +“Going to leave me here alone?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t give a hang what you do. You can let +the old bear sleep with you if you want to. It’s me +for the hotel.” And he began lacing up his boots. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m not going to stick around here all +alone—besides, you’d never find your way back +alone in the dark.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>That’s</em> a good alibi!” said Bob. “Guess you +don’t want to stay much yourself.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +</p> +<p> +“As a matter of fact, I don’t—not alone,” Joe +admitted. +</p> +<p> +They gathered up their provisions and blankets, +poured the water for their morning coffee on the fire, +and started back for the trail. It was hard work +finding it, in the inky dark, and every time they +heard a noise in the blackness around them Bob +yelled, “Beat it, you bear!” with the evident idea +that would drive the creature away. They knew +when they reached the trail only by the feeling of +hard, even ground under their feet, but at the hotel +the starlight over the lake was clear and comforting, +and sneaking up on the veranda, they spread their +blankets in the hammocks, and went to sleep again, +with the soft lap, lap, lap of the water on the beach +just below as a lullaby. +</p> +<p> +Joe woke early and roused Bob. +</p> +<p> +“Say, if we don’t want to be guyed for the rest of +the trip, we’ve got to beat it from here now, ’fore +anybody spots us, and get our breakfast up the shore +some place.” +</p> +<p> +“I know!” Bob whispered. “We’ll take a fish-pole +and a boat from the boat-house and catch a +breakfast! We can pay for the boat when the man +gets up. What time is it?” +</p> +<p> +“Four o’clock.” +</p> +<p> +“Only four? Gee, it’s day already, too. Come +on.” +</p> +<p> +They piled their stuff into a boat, took a fish-pole +from the eaves of the boat-house, found some +bait in a pail, and rowed out as noiselessly as they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +could, and up along the shore. Joe rowed, while +Bob kept casting from the stern. Finally he gave a +yell, and Joe saw his line go under, and stopped +rowing to watch the sport. He had a big one, all +right, and it fought well. Bob was fifteen minutes +in landing him, but had him in the boat finally, and +hit him over the head. +</p> +<p> +The fish was as much as eighteen inches long, or +more, and must have weighed four pounds. +</p> +<p> +“What’s it, anyhow?” Bob asked. +</p> +<p> +“Cut-throat trout,” said Joe. “I saw a man catch +two or three at Lake McDermott. I’ll bet it’s good, +too. Come on—we’ll have some breakfast! Good +job you did landing him, too, without a reel. I +thought your old line would bust two or three +times.” +</p> +<p> +They rowed in to the heavily wooded shore, built +a fire right by the lake, cleaned the fish, and Joe +fried the choicest parts, with a few thin strips of +bacon, coffee and biscuits. +</p> +<p> +Then they fell to. The grizzly, the restless night, +the early rise—they’d really had only four hours of +good sleep—were all forgotten while that hot, sizzling, +delicious breakfast lasted. +</p> +<p> +“Say,” Bob remarked, as he swallowed his last +mouthful, “I feel like licking my chops, the way our +old cat does! You sure are some cook. I’m going +to learn to cook, too, and go camping every summer. +This is the life!” +</p> +<p> +“Bears and all,” Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Aw, forget the old bear! Don’t seem so bad, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +now it’s daylight. Say,—not a peep, remember, +about that old bear.” +</p> +<p> +“I won’t say anything if you don’t,” Joe promised. +</p> +<p> +They rowed back now, and found the boat-keeper +up. Bob explained why they took the boat, and +paid the rental for it, and for the fish-pole. The man +was good-natured and made no complaint. +</p> +<p> +“Guess it’s all right,” he said. “’Course, if you +hadn’t got a fish I’d had to charge you more.” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose if we’d got two fish you’d have given +us the boat free,” Bob laughed. +</p> +<p> +They carried their stuff back to the stable, where +the rest of the packs were, and had returned to the +hotel lobby and were busily writing souvenir postcards +to all their friends back at home when the party +came down to breakfast. +</p> +<p> +“Hullo, boys!” everybody said. “Where’s that +fish?” +</p> +<p> +Bob rubbed his stomach. +</p> +<p> +“Did you really get one?” Lucy demanded. +“And you’ve eaten it all yourselves? Oh, you +mean, greedy things!” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” Bob declared, “you folks wouldn’t camp +with us. Go in and eat your old canned peaches and +hunks of whisk broom and condensed cream. Gee, +Joe ’n’ I have had some night, all right! Old Big +Ben woke us up——” +</p> +<p> +“Careful!” Joe cautioned. +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean—Big Ben?” asked Bob’s +mother. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, just our name for a pet bear we’ve acquired,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +Bob laughed, ignoring Joe’s caution. “A +dear, pretty, tame old silver tip who came right into +camp and tried to kiss old Joe, but Joe slapped his +face and said, ‘Naughty, naughty,’ and he got real +cross.” +</p> +<p> +“What <em>do</em> you mean? Did a bear come into +your camp? Oh, how lovely!” Alice cried. +</p> +<p> +“Lovely! Well, I must say——” Mrs. Jones +began. +</p> +<p> +“What <em>really</em> happened?” Bob’s father demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, tell the truth, Bob, now you’ve put your +foot in it,” Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, gosh, I can’t keep an old secret,” said the +boy. “Me and Joe—Joe and me——” +</p> +<p> +“Joe and <em>I</em>——” said his mother. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Joe and I were snoring away like a couple +o’ buzz saws, when snap went a stick, and woke me +up, and Joe was sitting up already, and gosh all +hemlock, but it was dark! And then the fire flickered, +and we saw old Big Ben on his hind legs not +two feet away——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, six feet, make it six!” Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Well, six, and he was ten feet tall, and growling +like anything, or sort of snarling, and I said, ‘Go +’way, you spoiled my dream’—just like that, and he +went, and then Joe said he wouldn’t stay there any +more, ’cause he didn’t like to be disturbed that way, +so——” +</p> +<p> +“<em>I</em> said it! Well, I like that!” Joe cried. +</p> +<p> +Bob grinned. “Well, anyhow, you wouldn’t stay +after I went, you know you wouldn’t,” he said. “So +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +we beat it for the hotel, and slept in the hammocks +on the porch till four, and then we got a boat and I +caught a four pound trout——” +</p> +<p> +“How do you know it was a four pounder?” his +father asked. +</p> +<p> +“Weighed him by his own scales,” Bob replied. +“And then Joe cooked him, and we had <em>some</em> breakfast. +Thank you all for your kind attention, ladies +and gents. This concludes our portion of the entertainment.” +</p> +<p> +Everybody laughed but Mrs. Jones. She couldn’t +get over the idea that her son had really “been exposed +to a bear,” as she put it. +</p> +<p> +“Was Bob as gay as this last night?” Lucy asked +Joe, as the party headed toward the dining-room. +</p> +<p> +“He was not!” Joe answered. “Made me promise +not to tell a soul that we’d been scared back to +the hotel.” +</p> +<p> +“Aw, well,” Bob laughed, “I got more fun out of +telling than keeping an old secret. Besides, I don’t +care who knows you were afraid! Come on down +and see the motor boats, while they’re eating their +whisk brooms.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span><a name='chXIII' id='chXIII'></a>CHAPTER XIII—In Avalanche Basin, Where Bob Learns that the Story of the Englishman’s Walk Before Breakfast Was No Joke</h2> +<p> +When Mills arrived after breakfast, he reported +that the party was to spend the day going +down the lake in a motor launch to the office of the +superintendent of the Park, on the west shore, near +the lower end, where they were to have dinner. +</p> +<p> +“That means a holiday for you, Joe,” the Ranger +said. “They’ll spend the night here at the hotel +again. But you’ll get paid just the same. You’re +your own boss to-day.” +</p> +<p> +When the launch had left, Joe began the day by +visiting the barber shop and getting his hair cut, for +he had not been near a barber since he left Southmead. +Then he made himself two or three sandwiches +for a lunch, put them in his pocket, and set +off back up the trail through the cedar forest. He +had never been in such a wood before, a real piece +of the primeval forest, where no axe had ever been, +except to clear the trail, where the trees had fought +for existence in such dense stands that they had to +shoot up straight and high for sun, without any +lower branches whatever, and where so many had +died in the struggle that their trunks lay, right and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +left, blocking every passage. It had always been +Joe’s ambition to become a forester, and this wood +and these trails over the Rocky Mountains had more +than ever made him sure that was the job for him. +So now he headed up into the timber, intent on a +long day’s study of the trees, the way they grew, the +effects of soil and water and winter storms. +</p> +<p> +It was a wonderful day he had, too, though he got +only about four miles back up the range from the +lake. The only part he did not like was being +alone. +</p> +<p> +“If only old Spider was here!” he kept thinking. +“Golly, how he’d love these woods!” +</p> +<p> +He ate his lunch on a point of rock above the +forest, where he could see, down over the tops, all +the twelve green, dancing miles of Lake McDonald. +He made a list of all the kinds of trees he knew (for +he got up above the cedars), and looked carefully at +the kinds he did not know, so he could ask Mills +about them. He picked forty-six kinds of wild +flowers, without half hunting, watched the different +birds, especially the Clark’s crows (a black and white +bird, a little smaller than a crow), and just lazily +enjoyed himself. +</p> +<p> +Not a very exciting day, you say? But wait till +you get out in the Rocky Mountains. You’ll find, +after you’ve ridden the high trails for a while, and +seen the tremendous precipices, and met up with a +bear or two, and otherwise had a lively time, you +will suddenly want to loaf for one whole day, too, +and not put your foot into a stirrup or do much of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +anything but lie around in the lovely woods or upland +meadows, and do nothing. It’s great to loaf +once in a while—not too often, nor too long. +</p> +<p> +But Joe had one little adventure before he got +back. He had sat down at the edge of an open +glade in the woods, to put a new film roll in his +camera, when he suddenly saw a big buck deer and +two does come out of the woods across the clearing. +They did not see him for a full minute, and stood +feeding, quite unconsciously. Then he either made +some sound or they spied him, for the buck reared +his head, stamped, and all three looked at him with +great, startled brown eyes. +</p> +<p> +Joe was working with nervous haste to get that +precious film roll in before they ran away. He didn’t +dare move more than his fingers and hands, and it +was hard work; but he got it in at last, and turned +it to position. But as he raised the camera to sight +it, they finally took fright and bolted for the woods. +Joe pressed the bulb, and got a picture of their three +white tails disappearing, but, alas! he didn’t get +their faces. It was the nearest he had ever come to +photographing a wild deer at close range, and he +was mad enough that they had come just when he +was filling his camera, and was not ready for them. +</p> +<p> +That night Mills looked at the sky, sniffed the +wind, and announced rain before two days. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll beat it with an early start,” he said +“Everybody ready at seven-thirty. Where are you +going to bunk, Joe?” +</p> +<p> +He had been told about the bear, Joe saw. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to bunk where I did last night,” Joe +answered. +</p> +<p> +“In the hammock?” +</p> +<p> +“No, in the cedars.” +</p> +<p> +“Good-night, nurse!” said Bob. “No more Big +Ben for mine.” +</p> +<p> +“Are you really?” Lucy asked. “Aren’t you +foolish?” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe,” said Joe, “though it was probably a +tame bear. But if I don’t, Mr. Mills will guy me all +summer. I’ll stay there this time, if he eats me +alive!” +</p> +<p> +“That’s the right spirit,” said Lucy. “If I were +a boy, I’d stay with you!” +</p> +<p> +“I bet you would!” Joe exclaimed. “Anybody +who says girls are quitters has got the wrong dope.” +</p> +<p> +So he went back alone to the little camp in the +woods, and though it was dark and ghostly and +every cracking twig gave him a jump, he built up +his fire and lay down to sleep. He did not sleep +for a long time, for he could not make himself stop +listening to noises, but finally he dozed off, and +when he finally woke it was daylight. +</p> +<p> +“You poor simp!” he told himself. “Nothing +has happened. Afraid of a tame bear, who’s probably +twice as afraid of you! Glad old Spider wasn’t +here to see!” +</p> +<p> +He fried himself some bacon, and hurried back to +the stables, to help pack the horses for the trip. +</p> +<p> +“And now where is it?” the men demanded, as +they all mounted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span> +</p> +<p> +“Depends on the weather,” Mills said. “If it +holds off rain, I want to camp to-night in Avalanche +Basin, and maybe show you a goat or two. If it +comes on to rain, we’ll make for Granite Park chalet, +on Swift Current Pass.” +</p> +<p> +“I see—going around the circle, and back to +Many Glacier over Swift Current,” said Mr. Elkins, +who had been studying a map. “Well, let’s hope +it doesn’t rain. I don’t see any signs now.” +</p> +<p> +“I smell it,” Mills said. +</p> +<p> +This day, with restocked provisions and well +rested horses, they headed north, on the west side of +the Divide, past the head of the lake, and up +McDonald Creek, a rushing, turbulent little river +which comes pouring down the heavily wooded +cañon between the Lewis Range, which is the range +that makes the Continental Divide, and the Livingston +Range just to the west. It was a pretty ride, +up the side of the stream, but the trees were so +thick and tall that they could catch only occasional +glimpses of the mountain walls on either side of the +cañon. +</p> +<p> +After five miles or more, Mills halted, by the side +of a smaller stream which came in from the east, and +took a look at the sky and the peak of a mountain +visible in a gap of the trees. +</p> +<p> +“I guess we can risk it,” he said, and turned eastward +up the bank. This side trail climbed much +more steeply, and led them after a couple of miles +into a box cañon, like a deep rock ditch, with just +the stream and the trail at the bottom, and then into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +one of the wildest spots you can imagine—a +marvelous bowl, almost entirely closed in except for +the gap where they had climbed, with a green +glacier lake at the bottom, and steeply sloping sides +which went up from the shore of the lake for over +five thousand feet—Cannon Mountain to the north, +Brown to the south, and at the eastern end, high +over their heads, the great white field of Sperry +Glacier, pouring down its silver ribbons of waterfalls. +</p> +<p> +They reached this lovely wild spot, called Avalanche +Basin because when the snows come in winter +the sides are so steep that avalanches keep pouring +down, before noon, and at once made camp, while +Joe set about the lunch. +</p> +<p> +After lunch, Bob said, “Well, Mr. Mills, bring on +your goat.” +</p> +<p> +Mills didn’t answer, but lifted his head, and +scanned the cliffs. +</p> +<p> +“All right,” he finally said, “there are two.” +</p> +<p> +And he pointed upward. +</p> +<p> +Everybody followed his finger, to a red cliff, +across the lake and far up the steep mountain wall. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see anything but some spots of snow,” +Bob said. +</p> +<p> +“Wait—wait—one of the spots is moving!” Lucy +cried. “Is that really a goat? My goodness, how +does he stick on? Why, it’s straight up and down!” +</p> +<p> +“That don’t trouble a goat,” said the Ranger. +</p> +<p> +The two specks of snow were certainly moving. +The whole party watched till their necks ached, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +the goats had either seen them or were not bound +for the lower reaches, anyhow, for they did not come +down. Instead, they walked along the cliff wall, +and presently disappeared around a headland. +</p> +<p> +“Why, they’re just like flies!” one of the congressmen +exclaimed. “I suppose they were on a +ledge. How wide do you reckon it was?” +</p> +<p> +“Might have been two feet, might have been six +inches,” Mills answered. “I’ve seen sheep and +goats go around a ledge on a sheer precipice that +wasn’t over four inches wide, and stop to scratch +themselves on the way!” +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to climb up there and see how steep +that place is!” Bob cried. +</p> +<p> +“Hooray! Us, too,” said Alice and Lucy. +“Come on, Joe.” +</p> +<p> +Mills was smiling, and Joe thought once more of +the story of the Englishman. He told the story now, +and Mills smiled again. +</p> +<p> +“Is it that far, Mr. Mills—now, honestly?” the girls +asked. +</p> +<p> +“Go ahead and try it,” the Ranger said, still smiling. +“I’ll come along, like Joe’s friend.” +</p> +<p> +The five of them started out, worked around the +head of the lake, and began at once to climb the +long, steep, rough shale pile at the foot of the first +cliff. Above this first cliff was another slope, before +the cliff began on which they had seen the goats. It +was hard going, with thick patches of timber-line +scrub spruces which held you like iron and tore like +barbed wire, and sharp, irregular rocks of all sizes, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span> +and slopes of loose, small stones that gave way +underfoot, and even patches of snow. They toiled +on, Mills in the rear this time, still smiling, until at +last they reached the foot of the first cliff, and looked +far down at the lake and their tents. They could +see the people there, the horses, even Joe’s fire pit +and a tin kettle. +</p> +<p> +“Why, I could almost throw a stone down on +’em,” said Bob, “yet I feel as if we’d come a long +way.” +</p> +<p> +He looked at his watch. +</p> +<p> +“Gee whiz, we’ve been gone ’most two hours +already!” he cried. Then he looked up at the cliff +above, which was almost perpendicular. The girls +looked at it, too. Joe looked at it, and longed for +Spider and a rope to tackle it. But he did not see +how any one could safely climb it without a rope. +Mills looked at the four of them—and still smiled. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” he said, finally, “going on?” +</p> +<p> +“You win,” Bob admitted reluctantly. “We’re +the goats.” +</p> +<p> +“No, the trouble is, we’re not!” laughed Lucy. +“If we were, we could keep on.” +</p> +<p> +So they started back, sliding down a snow-field by +sitting down and “letting her go”—which was +rapid, but very damp. +</p> +<p> +“The goats win,” said Bob, as they reached camp +almost three hours later. +</p> +<p> +“And yet we could see you all the way,” his father +said “Now I realize what Rocky Mountain air is.” +</p> +<p> +That night they had a big camp-fire, and a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +sing—all the songs every one knew, with Val playing on a +harmonica he fished sheepishly out of his saddle-bag. +Then they all “turned in” early, to be ready +for a long trip the next day. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span><a name='chXIV' id='chXIV'></a>CHAPTER XIV—Up the Divide in a Rain, With a Lost Horse On the Way, and a Howling Snow-Storm At the Top</h2> +<p> +Joe was still sleepy when the Ranger shook him +by the shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“Get up,” said Mills. “We’re in for a rain before +night, sure. I want to get as far as we can before it +begins. Get breakfast, and put up some stuff handy +for lunch, so you can get it without unpacking.” +</p> +<p> +Joe crawled out into a new, strange world. For +the first time since he’d been in the Park it was not +a clear day. The clouds hung low, way down over +the tops and sides of the mountains, gray, dull +clouds, with ghostly strings of vapor moving around +on the under side. Sperry Glacier was invisible, and +the vapors were half-way down the wall where the +goats had been. Here, in the deep bowl of Avalanche +Basin, with its towering, precipitous sides, +the result was that Joe felt exactly as if he were +shut in down at the bottom of a huge well, a well +with a gray smoke cover over it. Even the bright +green water of the little lake, without any sunlight, +had turned a dull, chalky green, and looked ominous +and unreal, as if you would catch dead fish in it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +</p> +<p> +“I don’t like this—I feel as if I were in a prison,” +he said to the Ranger, as he kindled his fire. +</p> +<p> +“You may like it less before we get to Granite +Park,” Mills answered. “Put your poncho over +your saddle to-day—you’re going to need it.” +</p> +<p> +Then he woke the camp. +</p> +<p> +Everybody felt more or less as Joe did, and breakfast +was curiously quiet. Even Bob stopped his gay +chatter. They got an early start, and were soon +down on the main trail beside McDonald Creek, and +plugging north through the deep forest of pines, +larches and Englemann spruce. It was dull, monotonous +work, with no view at all, for when there was +an opening in the woods, all they could see was a +cliff wall going up into the gray cloud overhead, +which shut down over them like a roof. Mile after +mile they went, now and then Bob or the girls starting +a song, but soon stopping it. The trail was wet +and muddy underfoot, and there were some fallen +trees to jump. Moreover, the packhorses were, for +some reason, particularly badly behaved that day, +and Joe and Val nearly lost their tempers a dozen +times as they rode into the brush, to head off some +packhorse which was trying to get out of line. +</p> +<p> +When they stopped for lunch, it had already begun +to drizzle. Joe made coffee, and passed out the +usual collection of food for a Charlie Chaplin sandwich. +By the time lunch was eaten, the drizzle had +settled down into a misty rain, and the trees had begun +to drip. Then everybody realized why they had +been carrying around slickers on their saddles. On +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +went these slickers—long, yellow rubber coats such +as are worn by the Gloucester fishermen. They fitted +the men all right, but poor Lucy and Alice were +completely enveloped, with the sleeves coming down +over their hands. Joe put his head through the hole +in his poncho—and that was all right till he came to +mount his horse. Then he discovered that a poncho +is decidedly not the thing for horseback riding, for +his knees and legs kept coming out from under, on +either side, and as the trees and bushes were soon +dripping wet, and the rain kept falling, he was speedily +soaked almost to the waist. It grew colder, too. +But there was nothing to do but plod on, through +the wet, miry trail. +</p> +<p> +However, very soon after lunch, the trail suddenly +left the cañon, and headed east right up the side +wall, to Swift Current Pass. +</p> +<p> +“Less than three miles to camp,” Mills called back; +“and three thousand feet to climb,” he added. +</p> +<p> +“Three thousand feet in less than three miles,” +Joe reflected. “Let’s see, Mount Lafayette in the +White Mountains is fifty-two hundred feet high, and +the trail starts from the Profile House, which is nineteen +hundred feet up. That makes only thirty-three +hundred feet, and the trail is five miles long.” +</p> +<p> +Then Joe thought of that trail, which he had +climbed only two summers before, and how steep it +was, and whistled to himself. +</p> +<p> +“We’re in for it,” he thought. +</p> +<p> +And he was right. Ordinarily, this trail, while it +is steep and not well graded or maintained, is easy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +enough for a Rocky Mountain horse; but now, with +the rain pouring down, it was converted into a regular +brook in places, and in other places, where the +rocks were bare or mossy, it was slippery as ice. +</p> +<p> +“Everybody off, and take hold of the tails of your +horses,” Mills finally ordered, after two horses had +almost slipped off. +</p> +<p> +“I can’t walk up here! What do you think I +hired this horse for?” Mrs. Jones demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Well, your horse can’t walk up here with you on +him,” the Ranger replied. “I’m not responsible for +the weather. You’ll have to walk, or break your +neck.” +</p> +<p> +And Joe could see he wanted to add—“I don’t +care which.” +</p> +<p> +Bob and the girls grabbed their horses by the tails, +and scrambled up rapidly to the next easy stretch, +but their fathers and mothers climbed up more +slowly, while Mills drove up the horses. Then Dick, +Val and Joe drove up the packhorses, which, of +course, couldn’t be unloaded, and had a hard time. +All of them were up but two, and they were breathing +easier, when the next to the last horse, on a slippery +ledge, bumped his pack against the upper wall, +slipped out toward the edge, pawed madly with his +hoofs, got no grip on the skin of wet, slimy moss and +mud which covered the rock, and went over backward, +with a wild whinny, and staring, frightened +eyes. +</p> +<p> +Fortunately, it was not straight down here, only a +very steep slope, and twenty feet below was a thick +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +tangle of scrub pine and tall huckleberry bushes. +The poor horse tipped over on his back, turned a +complete double somersault, and landed crash against +the pines, where he lay struggling to get on his feet +again. Joe, Val, Dick and Mills all dashed down to +him, and one held his head while the rest got the +pack off his back. He got up on his feet, trembling, +and the Ranger and Dick felt him all over. +</p> +<p> +“I guess the pack saved him, at that,” Mills said. +“He fell on the blankets. Well, boys, haul the stuff +up.” +</p> +<p> +They each took part of the load, and carried it to +the level above, while the Ranger led up the poor, +frightened horse. At the top the party was waiting, +huddled in the rain. They were a sorry and comical +looking lot, and though Joe’s own feet were soaked, +and he was wet to the skin below the hips, and he +was cold, he certainly wanted to laugh. Water was +dripping from the women’s hair, Mrs. Jones’ face +looked blacker than the clouds which hung in the +trees just above her, Mrs. Elkins looked as if she was +about to cry any minute, Mr. Elkins simply looked +wet and cold and mad, and Alice and Lucy, almost +buried in their enormous slickers, were trying to sing +to keep up their courage. Only Bob was still cheerful. +He was eating wet huckleberries—wet and half +green. +</p> +<p> +It was a nasty, wet job getting the pack on again, +and Mills sent the party on ahead, with Dick to +guide them. But the Granite Park chalet was not +far away. They were over the worst of the trail. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +In another half hour, after crossing a meadow which +was now full of running brooks, and climbing up a +last steep pitch, Joe suddenly saw the chalet emerge +from the heavy cloud, as if a picture of Switzerland +in his old school geography had popped out of a fog +right over his head. Built partly of stone and partly +of rough timber, exactly in the style of a Swiss chalet, +this building was about the size of an ordinary house. +Joe knew by the map that it was almost up to the +top of Swift Current Pass, just below the Great Divide, +but you could not have told it now. The clouds +were swirling all around, and it was already so cold +that the rain was beginning to freeze as fast as it hit, +making a thin skin of ice on the rocks. +</p> +<p> +Unpacking the horses, and getting the packs piled +under the shelter of the porch, and then taking the +horses to a rough stable near by, was done in a +hurry. The three men then dove into the kitchen +door, into the warmth of the fire which roared in a +red hot stove. +</p> +<p> +In the big front room there was another stove +roaring, and around that the party were already +huddled, waiting for their dunnage bags, to get out +dry clothes. Joe and Dick brought the bags in, and +each one went to a room up-stairs to change. Joe +himself had dry underclothes, socks, and a pair of +shoes, but he had no extra trousers. He and the +cowboys and Mills changed as much as they could +in the kitchen, but Joe had to put his wet trousers +on again. When Lucy came down, in a skirt and +dry shoes, she saw this at once. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Joe, you <em>must</em> get some dry trousers,” she +said. “You mustn’t run such a risk.” +</p> +<p> +Joe laughed. “Oh, I’m all right,” he said. +“Won’t hurt me—I’ve been exercising.” +</p> +<p> +“But you’re not exercising now. I’m going to +fix you.” +</p> +<p> +She went over and spoke to the manager in +charge of the chalet; he nodded, and went into the +little room where he slept, emerging with a pair of +his own trousers. As he was some six inches larger +around the middle than Joe, everybody laughed, and +they laughed more when Joe reappeared, with the +trousers on. +</p> +<p> +“Say, Joe, you’ll need some supper to fill them!” +Bob cried. +</p> +<p> +“Never mind,” said Lucy. “They are dry.” +</p> +<p> +The chalet now smelled of drying clothes and drying +leather. Over both stoves hung stockings and +trousers and even underclothes, and behind them +stood rows of boots. Outside, the wind was howling +and shaking the entire house with every gust. It +was almost as dark as if it had been evening, though +it was only five o’clock, and Bob, peering through +the steamed window pane, suddenly cried, “Hi! look +quick—snow!” and opened the front door to dash out. +</p> +<p> +As he lifted the latch, the wind caught the door +and blew it wide open, a great gust of snow swirling +in, half across the room. +</p> +<p> +“Say, is this August first or January first?” Mr. +Elkins demanded. “I thought we came to a summer +resort, not Greenland.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +</p> +<p> +“Our mountains are just showing off for you a +bit,” Mills smiled, as the young people and Joe, in +spite of the gale, went out on the porch to see the +snow-storm driving past. +</p> +<p> +But they were soon driven in, blowing on their +fingers, and brushing the snow off their clothes. +</p> +<p> +“The man who built this old shack right here +gets my vote,” Bob declared. “Say, ma, how’d +you like to be on your prancing steed right now, up +on top of the Pass, still seven miles from blighty? +Eh, wot?” +</p> +<p> +“Thanks,” said Mrs. Jones. “I prefer it here.” +</p> +<p> +“I know!” Lucy said. “Let’s have afternoon tea.” +</p> +<p> +“All those in favor say aye—the ayes have it—it’s +a vote—Joe, go to it,” cried Bob. “That’s the +way they put a bill through in dad’s old Congress—just +like that.” +</p> +<p> +Joe got out the tea and the cups, and with Alice +and Lucy helping, they soon had hot tea on the +table, and a big plate of crackers, and a lot of sweet +chocolate Mr. Jones bought at the little counter by +the manager’s desk. +</p> +<p> +“Let the wild winds howl; what do we care for +your old August blizzards?” said Bob, as he passed +his cup to Joe for a second helping. +</p> +<p> +When tea was over, Joe set about cooking a good, +hot dinner, for he had a real stove to work with now, +and an oven. He mixed dough for hot biscuit, got +out eggs for omelettes, tins of soups, made a batter +for griddle cakes, and opened his last can of preserved +peaches for dessert. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +</p> +<p> +While he was working, with Val sitting in a +corner, telling him stories about broncho busting, +there came a sudden stamping of feet on the porch +outside, the door opened, and two men, covered +with snow, with heavy packs on their backs, almost +fell into the kitchen. +</p> +<p> +Val sprang up and caught one of them as he +staggered and was about to tumble. Mills and the +manager of the chalet came hurrying in from the +front room. Joe jumped to his stove and poured +boiling water on some fresh tea leaves. +</p> +<p> +While the others were getting the two men into +chairs, and pulling off their soaked clothes, Joe +steeped his tea, and brought each of them a big tin +mug full. They swallowed it eagerly, and brightened +up. They changed into dry clothes, supplied partly +from their own packs and partly from the manager’s +wardrobe. “You see,” the man said, “I keep old +clothes here for just such emergencies.” +</p> +<p> +They were from a mid-western city, and had come +to Glacier for a vacation. Being fond of walking, +and also wanting to do the Park as cheaply as they +could, they had decided to hike from point to point. +They had already come over Piegan Pass from the +south, and stopped last night at the tepee camp at +Many Glacier. To-day they had first visited Iceberg +Lake, and then, in spite of the threatened rain +(it had not rained till long after noon on the east side +of the Divide, they said), they had climbed Swift +Current Pass, headed for this chalet. They had run +into the heavy cloud near the top of the Pass, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +did not expect any trouble in finding their way, +because the trail is well marked by countless horses. +But in the Pass meadow they got the full force of +the storm, where the snow hit them, and before they +got across, the track was obliterated; the cloud was +so dense they could not see fifty feet ahead, and they +were almost benumbed with the cold. However, +they continued to pick up trail marks here and there, +and stumbled down finally till they saw the chalet +looming up under the cloud mantle. +</p> +<p> +“We never expected anything like this, in mid-summer,” +one of them said, “or, of course, we +wouldn’t have climbed the Pass to-day.” +</p> +<p> +“You wouldn’t get it once in five years,” Mills +answered,—“but there’s always a time, you know. +That’s why the chalet’s here.” +</p> +<p> +The two men were so tired that Joe’s party offered +to share dinner with them, relieving them of the task +of cooking, since the regular cook employed by the +chalet had deserted the day before and all guests +now had to shift for themselves. It was quite a +party that sat down to table, with Val as waiter and +Joe turning the omelettes and tossing the griddle +cakes on the stove. They ate by the light of a lamp, +though up there, ordinarily, at seven o’clock it would +have been bright daylight. Outside the wind howled, +the snow flew, and the house shook as if hit by a +giant fist as each gust struck it +</p> +<p> +But suddenly, as Joe was dishing out the +canned peaches in the kitchen, he heard a cry from +Bob. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hi, look—it’s getting light—oh, gee, folks—come +quick!” +</p> +<p> +When Joe came into the room with what dishes +Val could not carry, he found every one up from the +table and crowded at the west windows. The lamplight +had paled. Into the windows was pouring the +last rays of the setting sun, over behind the Livingston +Range, the other side of the cañon. These +rays came out of a great, blue hole in the wall of +clouds, and seemed to stream like a vast search-light +along the under side of the cloud wrack overhead. +They pierced right through the falling snow, which +turned to a dancing, dazzling veil of golden crystals +between the windows and the sun. And, against the +hole into the west, stood up the snow-crowned pyramid +of Trapper’s Peak, while, to the south, just +emerging from the clouds, its great snow-fields +tinged with sunset as with blood and gold, rose the +beautiful cone of Heaven’s Peak, shining, mysterious, +magnificent. +</p> +<p> +“Dessert—peaches,” said Val. +</p> +<p> +“Go ’way,” said Alice. “This is better than any +dessert. Oh, I’m going out!” +</p> +<p> +Peaches were forgotten—everything was forgotten. +Every one piled out on the west porch and watched +the wonderful display. Now the low sun was shooting +a great rainbow up on the under side of the +cloud right over the Divide. One end of this rainbow +dropped down past the steep cliff of the Divide +south of the Pass, known as the Garden Wall, and +ended in a patch of snow. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hi—Joe, let’s go down and get the pot o’ gold,” +Bob called. “I can see just where it is.” +</p> +<p> +“I would, if I had on my own pants,” Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +As if to finish off the display with a pretty touch, +the snow stopped falling, so they could see plainly +all the white slopes around the camp, and suddenly +a deer bounded out from behind a pine thicket, +circled all around below them, and disappeared at +last to the north. +</p> +<p> +The sun dropped, leaving a green and pink hole +in the west, enlarging every moment. The clouds +were lifting. It was still cold, however, and the wind +was howling. The crowd went in reluctantly, blew +on their fingers, and finished their dinner. +</p> +<p> +Some one proposed games after the dinner was +cleared away. Some one else proposed a story. +But Bob proposed bed, and after some debate, his +motion prevailed, chiefly, his father declared, because +every one on the opposition side was yawning so +that he could not argue. +</p> +<p> +“Are you all right? You haven’t got a cold, have +you?” Lucy asked Joe, as she said good-night. +</p> +<p> +“No, I feel fine,” Joe answered. +</p> +<p> +He did, too, and went to sleep, rolled in his blankets +on the kitchen floor, thinking of the girl—or the +woman, he hardly knew which to call her—who was +so thoughtful and kind. +</p> +<p> +“This is a pretty good old world, and pretty nice +folks in it,” was his last reflection, before he dropped +asleep, with Dick on one side, and Val on the other, +while the wind was still shaking the chalet. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span><a name='chXV' id='chXV'></a>CHAPTER XV—Tom’s Chance for Adventure Comes Unexpectedly, Wearing Hobnail Shoes and Carrying a Rope</h2> +<p> +The next day’s trip was an easy one. Each one +of the party was tired, and Mills let them sleep +late. After breakfast they set off up the quarter +mile of steep trail to Swift Current Pass, through +the powder of fresh snow which was fast melting, +and then down on the other side, over the trail Joe +had taken on his first ride in the Park. How different +it seemed to him now! He sat his saddle +like an old timer. He did not give a thought to the +steepness—it didn’t even seem steep! In fact, he +hung his reins over the horn of his saddle, and unslinging +his camera, snapped several pictures of the +party as it rounded the turns of the switchbacks, +with the girls looking up at him and waving their +hands, and Bob making horrible faces. +</p> +<p> +At the usual point, Mills gave a yell, and started +the race to the hotel. But it was Joe’s job now to +get ahead of the packhorses, and hold them back. +He could not gallop with the crowd. It was almost +ten minutes later that he and Val reached the tepee +camp, with their eight beasts of burden. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +</p> +<p> +Spider was standing in front of the tepees, and +ran out to grab Joe’s hand. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, old scout!” he cried. “Gee, but I’m +glad to see you! How are you? All right? Maybe +I wasn’t worried in that rain yesterday. You all +right?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure I’m all right,” Joe said. “Wow—some +good time, too! You’ll have to stay up all night hearing +about it. I’ll be back soon, and get your lunch.” +</p> +<p> +“Forget that,” said Tom. “I’ve got it already. +I’m a bum cook, though—haven’t had a decent meal +since you left. I’ll wait for you. Nobody in camp +just now, but some due to-night.” +</p> +<p> +Joe rode on to the hotel, helped unpack, and said +good-bye to all the party. It was hard, too, for +after those seven days on the trail and in camp, even +though he was only the camp cook and they were +congressmen and congressmen’s families, he felt as +if they were all old friends. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Elkins drew him to one side a little. “I know +you’re working your way out here,” said he, “and +we’d all like to help you, Joe, for you’ve been a fine +cook for us, and we’ve all been like a jolly family +together. I don’t suppose you’d let me make you a +little present, would you, to show how grateful we +are?” +</p> +<p> +Joe turned red. “Oh, no, sir,” he answered. +“Scouts never take tips, and that would be a tip, +wouldn’t it, sir, really? I get paid by Mr. Mills, or +the saddle company. Why, I’ve had more fun being +with you all than you’ve had, I guess!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +</p> +<p> +Mr. Elkins put a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “That’s +the talk I like to hear,” he said. “You’ve made me +realize what the Boy Scouts are after, Joe, and if you +ever come to Washington, and want to see how +Congress works, you let me know, and you and I’ll +do the town!” +</p> +<p> +Every one shook hands with him then, even Mrs. +Jones, who, now the hotel was in sight again, was +as cheerful as a cricket. +</p> +<p> +“I just love roughing it—now it’s all over,” she +laughed. +</p> +<p> +But Bob was not to be seen. Joe looked around +for him, and wondered where he could be. He +shook hands with Lucy last of all. She was sweeter +and prettier than ever as she smiled at him. +</p> +<p> +“Not good-bye—au revoir,” said she. “You’re +going to swap snap shots with us, and write me how +you are, and what you see in the Park after we’re +gone, and some day you’ll come to Washington, +won’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“You bet I’d like to,” he answered. “Gee, you—you—you’ve +been awful nice to me—kind of +makes me homesick——” +</p> +<p> +He couldn’t finish, and Lucy gave his fingers a +friendly little pressure, and turned away. +</p> +<p> +Joe got on Popgun again, still wondering where +Bob was, and turned to depart, when with a “Hi, +there—don’t go yet!” Bob burst from the hotel +door. +</p> +<p> +He was bearing in one hand a jointed bamboo +fish-pole, in the other a full box of tackle and flies. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +</p> +<p> +“This is for you,” he said. “’Course, you can’t +get a good, big fish without me to catch it for you, +but you can cook what you do get O.K. And don’t +let any more bears kiss you, and send a feller some +snap shots when you have ’em developed, and here’s +my address.” +</p> +<p> +Joe took the rod and tackle. “Gee, Bob, that’s +white of you,” he said. “Guess I’ll never forget +this trip.” +</p> +<p> +“Me, neither. Old Pennsylvania’s goin’ to look +like a prairie when I get back. So long, Joe.” +</p> +<p> +“So long, Bob.” +</p> +<p> +He waved his hand to Alice and Lucy, who +watched him from the doorway, and rode off behind +Mills, dropped his dunnage bag at the camp, and +took Popgun to the Ranger’s cabin. +</p> +<p> +“If you boys will let me, I’ll grub with you this +noon. Not a thing in my shack,” the Ranger said. +</p> +<p> +“Fine—come on. Well, Mr. Mills, did I make +good?” +</p> +<p> +Mills gave him a funny look out of his pale, keen +blue eyes. +</p> +<p> +“I never pick a man that doesn’t,” he said. +“By the way, here’s your money—seven days at +three dollars a day. Cooks are coming high this +year.” +</p> +<p> +He handed the astonished Joe twenty-one dollars—six +of it in cart wheels, which you almost never +see in the East. +</p> +<p> +“Say, I didn’t expect so much. Is that on the +level?” Joe demanded. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +</p> +<p> +“Regular price this season—labor’s awful scarce. +I don’t see why you shouldn’t have all the work you +want for the rest of the season.” +</p> +<p> +“Gee, and it isn’t work—it’s fun!” +</p> +<p> +“Glad you think so,” the Ranger laughed. “Yesterday +struck me as work.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure, but it was fun, too.” +</p> +<p> +The two boys and the Ranger ate their lunch at +the tepee camp, where Tom had been experimenting +on the stove. Poor Tom! He wasn’t much of a +cook—not compared to Joe, at any rate, and he got +rather sore for a minute when Mills suggested that +Joe remake the coffee. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t get peeved,” Mills laughed. “Just take +one drink of Joe’s coffee, and you’ll feel better.” +</p> +<p> +Then Tom laughed, too. “Well, old Joe’s a professional +chef now,” he said. “I’m only a janitor. +Has he been well, honest and true, Mr. Mills?” +</p> +<p> +“Far as I’ve seen, he’s as sound as the best,” Mills +answered. “Why don’t you take him over and +weigh him this afternoon?” +</p> +<p> +“I will,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +And he did. They found some scales in the basement +of the hotel, and Joe got on. He had gained +five pounds that week, in spite of the hard work of +the trip! Spider gave a shout of glee. +</p> +<p> +“Hooray!” he cried. “I told you the old ozone +would do it! We’re giving the bugs the knock out. +Now, when an M. D. comes along, you’re going to +get the once over again, and see if you can climb.” +</p> +<p> +“I—I——” Joe began, looking rather guilty. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +“Well, Tom, I did climb a glacier, and fell in, +too!” +</p> +<p> +“It would have served you right if they hadn’t +fished you out—tell me all about it.” +</p> +<p> +All that afternoon, after Joe had given his money +to Big Bertha, to keep in the office safe for him, the +two boys sat by the lake shore, on a little point of +rocks, taking turns fishing with the new rod, while +Joe narrated the story of his trip. They caught only +two smallish trout, hardly enough for a good mess, +but that didn’t matter. It was too much fun telling +and hearing about the wonders of the Park. +</p> +<p> +“And you’ve just had to stick around here, old +Spider, working for me,” Joe exclaimed, penitently. +“To-morrow, I’m going to see Big Bertha, and get +him to let me run the camp for a while, so’s you can +take a trip.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and who’ll go with me?” said Tom. “Can’t +go alone. Besides, didn’t we come out here for you +to get well? Forget it, wifey.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I don’t care what you call me to-day,” Joe +laughed. “I’ve had too good a time—and I’m +going to find a way for you to, now. You wait—something +will turn up.” +</p> +<p> +Something did—and that very night, just after the +party Tom expected went into the chalets, too tired +to camp. +</p> +<p> +Yet the turn-up did not look a bit promising +when it arrived. It was a small man, with big steel +spectacles, enormous hobnail boots, a huge pack, a +blanket roll, and a coil of curious, soft rope around +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +his waist. He was a man about forty years old, and +didn’t look as if he could carry such a load two +miles. Yet he came down the trail at six o’clock +erect and brisk, and said casually he’d come that +day from the Sun Camp, over Piegan Pass. +</p> +<p> +“That’s twenty-two miles!” the boys exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +“Is it?” said he. “I should hardly have called it +so far. Have you a cook here?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, yes,” said Tom. “Joe’s a cook. Folks at +camp generally get their own meals. I’d hardly +know how to charge.” +</p> +<p> +“I hate my own meals,” the man said. “That’s +why I always take a pocket full of raisins for lunch. +You get me dinner and breakfast, and I guess we +can reckon out a fair payment. Am I alone in the +camp to-night?” +</p> +<p> +“There was a party coming,” Tom said, “but +they were so tired, they went to the chalets. I don’t +expect anybody else.” +</p> +<p> +“Too bad,” the man said. “Not that I pine for +company, but I do want to find somebody to climb +with me. Here I’ve brought an Alpine rope all the way +out here, and I can’t find a soul to shin a precipice.” +</p> +<p> +He wriggled out of the coils of the soft, braided +rope, which was almost as pliable as silk, and laid it +on the table. +</p> +<p> +“You don’t know of anybody, do you?” he added. +</p> +<p> +“Why, no sir, I don’t,” Tom answered, fingering +the rope curiously, to feel its soft, strange texture. +</p> +<p> +“I do,” Joe spoke up. +</p> +<p> +Tom and the man both turned toward him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +</p> +<p> +“Who is it?” they said. +</p> +<p> +Joe simply made a gesture toward Tom. +</p> +<p> +“You?” the hiker asked. “You look like a +strong, capable boy, but have you had any experience +with rock climbing?” +</p> +<p> +“Joe’s talking through his hat,” Spider stammered. +“I couldn’t go. My job’s to take care of this +camp——” +</p> +<p> +“I can fix that,” Joe cut in. “I’ll look after the +camp. Besides, here’s somebody comes to the Park +looking for a climb, and it’s up to the Park to find +somebody to go with him.” +</p> +<p> +“That seems settled,” the man smiled. “But +have you had any experience rock climbing?” +</p> +<p> +“No sir, not really, I guess,” Tom said. “I +climbed the head wall of Huntington Ravine on +Mount Washington once, when we scouts took a +hike in the White Mountains, and Joe and I have +climbed some little cliffs around home, with just a +common rope, and I got a box of spikes for my +shoes, but of course, I’ve never been in the Alps, or +anything like that.” +</p> +<p> +The man had now laid off his pack, and was inspecting +his tepee as he listened. +</p> +<p> +“The head wall of Huntington Ravine isn’t a bad +little climb,” he said, “though one of the side walls +is better. But it hardly qualifies you as an Alpine +guide. However, if you’d care to come with me, +and we could get somebody to tell us where there’s +an interesting wall, I’d be glad of your company to-morrow.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, gee, I’d like to go!” Tom cried, “if I can +get off.” +</p> +<p> +“You can get off,” said Joe, “and after supper I’ll +go get the Ranger to come and tell Mr.—Mr.——” +</p> +<p> +“Kent is my name,” the little man said. “At +home I’m Dr. Kent, but out here I wish to forget it.” +</p> +<p> +“——Mr. Kent where there’s a good cliff. Would +you like an omelette for supper, Mr. Kent, with some +chicken soup and fried potatoes and griddle cakes +and coffee?” +</p> +<p> +“That sounds very nice,” said he. “But I warn +you I sha’n’t know what I’m eating. I’ve had nothing +since breakfast but a couple of raisins.” +</p> +<p> +Joe went busily about getting his supper, while +Tom set the table, got fresh water, put some extra +blankets in his tepee, and ran to the supply store for +some jam or canned fruit for dessert. +</p> +<p> +“Now, you be sure to explain to Big Bertha that +I’m going to take your place if he’ll let you off,” Joe +whispered. “He knows I can do it. If he makes +any kick, I’ll go up after supper.” +</p> +<p> +When Tom came back, he reported that it was all +right, Big Bertha had not kicked at all. +</p> +<p> +“He’s an old peach,” Tom added. “Asked me +why I hadn’t suggested such a scheme before.” +</p> +<p> +“I knew that would be all right,” Joe laughed. +“After grub, I’ll get Mr. Mills, and he’ll go, too, +maybe. Gee, he’s dandy on a trip, and he knows +how to use a rope.” +</p> +<p> +The two scouts now devoted their entire attention +to the single guest at the camp. When Joe called, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +“Come and get it!” Tom set a camp chair at the +table, and brought the steaming food from the stove. +While Dr. Kent was eating the soup, Joe made the +omelette just right, and kept the fried potatoes sizzling, +and with them sent in a pot of piping hot coffee +and a plate of rolls. Then he made griddle cakes—five +helpings of them the man ate, too, four thick +cakes to a helping! He topped off with preserved +peaches. When he had finished, he drew a cigar +case from an inner pocket of his old, worn leather +jacket, lit a cigar, came over to a seat by the camp-fire +which Tom had now lighted, stretched out his +short legs, which were clad in great, heavy, square-toed +boots, blue woollen stockings that were in +wrinkles, and worn woollen knickerbockers of a once +rather startling brown and green striped pattern, +sighed contentedly, looked at the two scouts, and +remarked: +</p> +<p> +“Tom and Joe—those are your names, eh? Well, +I never fared so well, boys, in the Savoy in London +or the Waldorf in New York. Joe, I knew what I +was eating all the time, it was so good. I don’t know +how you chaps ever got way out here—I can tell you +both come from New England. But I’m glad you +came. I think maybe the Lord sent you for my especial +benefit. What do you think about it?” +</p> +<p> +“Tom thinks you were sent here for his special +benefit,” Joe laughed. “He’s not had a chance to +see a bit of the Park yet.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Joe—I do not!” poor Tom cried, getting +red. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, it looks mutual,” the man admitted. “Now, +where’s this Ranger? I like to get to-morrow all settled +while it is still to-day.” +</p> +<p> +Tom went up to the cabin for Mills, while Joe was +getting a bite ready for Spider and himself. Mills +appeared in less than ten minutes. Tom introduced +the two men, and went into the cook tepee, to eat +with Joe, while they both strained their ears to hear +the plans. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” the Ranger was saying, “there’s a mighty +nice climb at the head of Iceberg Lake. I was never +up it, but I know where the goat trail starts. Might +be good sport to follow that trail.” +</p> +<p> +“Chimney work, or mostly shelf?” the other man +asked. +</p> +<p> +“Mostly everything, I should reckon. I don’t now +recall any real chimney, till the top. The goats sort +of switchback on ledges. Guess you’ll need sharp +toe-nails, here and there.” +</p> +<p> +“Any ice work?” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing sticks on that wall!” said the Ranger. +</p> +<p> +“And the height?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, maybe two thousand.” +</p> +<p> +“You mean two thousand, all cliff?” the man +demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” said Mills. “Well, maybe you can knock +off two hundred for the shale slide at the bottom. It +goes right up to the crest of the Divide.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, that sounds like a climb!” Dr. Kent exclaimed. +“Suppose this boy Tom here can do it?” +</p> +<p> +Tom and Joe, pretending to eat, stopped their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +forks half-way to their mouths to listen. Tom was +almost trembling. +</p> +<p> +“He can if you know your business,” Mills answered, +laconically. “They’ve got good heads, both +those boys—and heads count on a goat trail.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor looked at Mills rather sharply. Evidently +he was not used to being spoken to in just that +way. +</p> +<p> +“I have climbed the Matterhorn,” he replied. +</p> +<p> +“We got a different kind o’ stone out here,” said +Mills. “It ain’t reliable. What’s the matter with +me going too? I ain’t had a good climb since I +hunted bighorns last, five years ago. And we can +all ride up to the lake on my horses, and I can see +how the trail’s standing up after the rain.” +</p> +<p> +“Three on the rope are better than two, of course,” +the other said. “And I’d be glad of your experience. +I have at least climbed enough to know that +it is safer to have a guide who knows the cliff.” +</p> +<p> +“Stranger,” Mills smiled, in his quiet way, “you +seem kind o’ sore at me. But I’m the Park Ranger +for this district, and Uncle Sam don’t want no accidents +in here. You may be the next thing to a +mountain goat, but I’ve never seen you climb, and +it’s up to me to be kind o’ what you’d call sceptical. +Now, wouldn’t you act so, if you was here for Uncle +Sam?” +</p> +<p> +The doctor put out his hand. “I’m ready to climb +anywhere you say we can get,” he said. “You’re +the sort Uncle Sam needs everywhere. Shake, and +say we’re friends.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +</p> +<p> +The boys saw them shake hands, and then they +heard Dr. Kent calling. +</p> +<p> +“Tom,” he said, “Mr. Mills is going with us to +see that we don’t break our necks. We leave to-morrow +at five o’clock. Is that too early, Mills?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit,” said the Ranger. +</p> +<p> +“Joe, can you have breakfast ready then?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“Mills, will you breakfast with us?” +</p> +<p> +“Thanks—I sure will if Joe makes the coffee.” +</p> +<p> +“Then it’s settled. Now, Tom, you can go to +bed as early as you like. I’m going to turn in right +away.” +</p> +<p> +(“Sounds like a hint!”) Joe whispered. +</p> +<p> +Tom nodded. He saw that the camp was all +right, bade the doctor good-night, and with Joe and +Mills walked up the path toward their camp. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Joe,” Mills said, “they’re keeping you +busy, eh? Sorry you can’t come along to-morrow—we +might find a hole somewhere for you to fall +into.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll let Spider do a few flipflaps now,” said Joe. +“I’ve had my turn.” +</p> +<p> +“If anybody tumbles, I hope it’s the M. D.,” Tom +laughed. “He’s just a little bit fond of Dr. Kent,—strikes +me.” +</p> +<p> +“Sh! You forget he’s climbed the Matterhorn,” +said Mills. +</p> +<p> +He went on to his cabin, and the boys settled +down in their own tent. +</p> +<p> +“Well, old Joey, here you are home!” Tom cried, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> +giving him a slap. “Gee, wifey, it’s been lonely for +a whole week without you!” +</p> +<p> +“And it’s some nice to get back,” said Joe. “It +sure seems like home, this little old tent, and Mr. +Rogers’ little old cot. Slept on the floor last night, +and on the ground all the other nights. Oh, you +cot!” +</p> +<p> +He sank luxuriously down, wrapped in his blankets, +and let Tom blow out the lantern. +</p> +<p> +“Home!” he sighed, sleepily. “Just a little old +tent, but home—with old Spider snoring in the other +bunk.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t snore!” Tom retorted. “It’s you who +snore.” +</p> +<p> +“You may if you want to,” said Joe. “It would +take more’n a snore to keep me awake to-night. +Oh, you cot! ’Night, Spider.” +</p> +<p> +“’Night, Joe.” +</p> +<p> +If either of them snored, no one knew it, except +the porcupine that came sniffing around the tent, +and then, disappointed, went off through the forest. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span><a name='chXVI' id='chXVI'></a>CHAPTER XVI—Tom Goes Up a Two Thousand Foot Wall, With an Alpine Rope, and Learns the Proper Way To Climb</h2> +<p> +The scouts were up again before five, and hurried +to the camp, where the doctor was still +sound asleep. +</p> +<p> +“Sound is right!” Spider laughed. +</p> +<p> +But he woke when he heard them getting breakfast, +and by the time he was dressed and breakfast +was ready, Mills came up, followed by Popgun and +the packhorse, both saddled. +</p> +<p> +As soon as breakfast was over, the two men and +Tom stowed away in their pockets the sandwiches +Joe made for them, made sure that all the spikes +were in their boots, and swung into the saddle. +</p> +<p> +“Good-bye, old Joey,” Tom called. “Have some +good hot dinner ready when we get back.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and you come back with your neck whole, +to eat it,” said Joe, waving his hand and watching +the three riders trot up the trail in the cool, level, +early morning sunlight. +</p> +<p> +It was a fine, clear day, a real Rocky Mountain +day, when you could almost see the buttons on a +man’s coat a quarter of a mile away. And it was +Tom’s first trip away from Many Glacier, into the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +high places, though he had walked around the camp +as far as he dared, and even climbed a little way up +a steep shale pile at the base of the cliff behind the +chalets. However, hikers were apt to show up at +any time of the day, and he had never been able to +venture more than a mile or two. But now he was +bound for Iceberg Lake, and then up the very main +precipice of the Great Divide, the backbone of the +continent, with the Park Ranger and a man who had +climbed the Matterhorn! +</p> +<p> +It was only a short ride to Iceberg Lake—about +six miles. The trail was a fine one, of easy grade, +and for some distance wound through the woods, +over tumbling brooks, and through beds of wild +flowers. The doctor seemed as much interested in +these flowers as he was in the coming climb. +</p> +<p> +“I never saw such a profusion,” he kept saying. +“So many kinds all together, and such beautiful +masses of color. Well, well, how little we Americans +know about our own country. Tom, I want +you to go back East and tell your schoolmates this +is a pretty fine land we live in.” +</p> +<p> +“You bet I will—if I go back,” said Tom. “I +like it so much here I may stay forever, and be a +ranger, like Mr. Mills.” +</p> +<p> +“After one winter, you won’t like it so much,” +Mills said. +</p> +<p> +Gradually the trail climbed above the tall timber, +and the view opened out. Tom could see they were +headed for a big semicircular amphitheatre, cut into +the towering rock walls of the Divide, and before +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +long they entered the open end of this titanic stadium. +It was a wild, beautiful spot. At their feet was a +meadow, covered with yellow dog-tooth violets like +gold patterns in a green carpet, and with little pines +in it like people walking about. On three sides of +them, sweeping around in a semicircle at the end, +was a vast precipice, seemingly perpendicular, except +for the big shale piles at the base. The top of +this cliff was a “castellated ridge,” the term mountaineers +give to a summit which is long and level, +but broken into little depressions and towers, like the +battlements of an ancient castle. At the upper end +of the amphitheatre lay a round lake, about half a +mile across, and at the upper end of that, right +under the shadow of the head wall, was the glacier. +</p> +<p> +This glacier, snow covered on top, showed a thirty +foot wall of green ice on the upright edge, and chunks +of this ice were constantly breaking off and floating +away in the green water. Hence the name Iceberg +Lake. +</p> +<p> +They rode right up to the shore, and Mills took +the horses into a little clump of trees, where there +was some grass also, and tethered them. +</p> +<p> +“Now,” said he, coming back, “to the job. +There’s the cliff.” +</p> +<p> +He led the way, with long easy strides, around +the right hand side of the lake, through steep rough +going, without any path and amid stubborn timber-line +evergreens, till he reached the base of a huge +shale and snowslide that stretched right up at an +angle of about fifty degrees, Tom estimated, to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +base of the jagged precipice. Looking up this shale +slide to the towering cliff above, Tom saw the staggering +task ahead of them—and his heart went +down into his spiked boots for a minute. He could +see how they could get up part way, all right, for at +first it wasn’t quite perpendicular, and it was full of +ledges. But then there seemed to be a sheer rise, +with not even a toe hold—“and if you fell—good-night!” +he whispered to himself. +</p> +<p> +But Mills and Dr. Kent were studying the cliff +quite calmly. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve seen the goats come down to that snow-field +at the top of this shale, half a dozen times,” the +Ranger was saying, “and go back the same way. +If we can find their trail, I guess we can make it, +though they’ll use an awful narrow ledge sometimes. +They get into one or the other of those two big +gullies, too, on the way back.” +</p> +<p> +“There seems to be ample footing,” the doctor +remarked. +</p> +<p> +There did not seem to be any footing to poor +Tom, but he did not say so. If they were going up, +he was! But those two thousand feet of rock didn’t +look much like the three hundred foot slope the +scouts used to climb back in Southmead. It was +the Great Divide in a single jump, and Tom felt +about as small as a fly must feel on the side of the +Washington Monument—and a good deal more +helpless, because the fly has suckers on his feet, and +wings beside. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i006' id='i006'></a> +<img src="images/illus-206.jpg" alt="Iceberg Lake and Glacier" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Iceberg Lake and Glacier</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span></div> +<p> +Mills now led the way up the shale pile, just a +smooth, insecure slide of sharp, broken stone, mostly +in small, irregular, flat pieces something like rotten +slate. It wasn’t as slippery as a pile of coal would +be, of course, but there was a good deal of tiresome +back-slide under one’s feet, none the less. +</p> +<p> +Close to the top was a snow-field, and Mills examined +it. +</p> +<p> +“They’ve been here—within a day,” he announced, +pointing to fresh hoof tracks, and also +pointing to spots where the goats had evidently +taken bites out of the snow, probably as a dog does +when thirsty. Above the snow-field Tom could see +just the faintest hint of a trail over the shale, which +led up to the base of the solid cliff. +</p> +<p> +“There she is—this is the way!” the Ranger +called. +</p> +<p> +The three of them now halted directly under the +tremendous wall, and looked up. Again Tom’s +heart sank. It wasn’t so nearly perpendicular as it +looked from the lake below, but he could see stretch +after stretch where a climber’s face would be ticklishly +close to the spot where he’d got to put his feet +next time—and the great, ragged wall, in long, wavy +horizontal strata belts, stretched up and up and up +and up! +</p> +<p> +Did you ever stand in Broadway below the Woolworth +Tower, and look up? Imagine that tipped +over a little from the perpendicular, and four times +as high, and you’ll have an idea of what Tom +looked at. +</p> +<p> +“Well, now, this is worth coming for!” the doctor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +cried, cheerfully, as he took off his coil of rope, and +made it ready. “Mills, will you take number one +place for a way? I’ll be number two and anchor, +of course. Tom can dangle off below, like a tail to +the kite. How’ll you like that, Tom?” +</p> +<p> +Tom’s face must have shown what he was feeling, +for the doctor suddenly changed tone. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come,” he said. “It’s not bad—only +long. A Swiss guide wouldn’t even consider this +dangerous. All you have to remember is to test all +your hand- and foot-holds before you put your weight +on them, and watch for falling stones. This shale +pile means the rock may crumble easily in places. +Come on—be a scout!” +</p> +<p> +“I’m game!” Tom answered, biting his lip. “I +guess I won’t be stumped by an old goat!” +</p> +<p> +Mills laughed. “Wait till you see a goat perform,” +he said, as he made fast one end of the rope +around his waist. As he adjusted it, he added, +“This is a better rope than I ever used. Where’d +you get it?” +</p> +<p> +“Switzerland,” the doctor answered. “I have +several I’ve brought over from time to time. You +can’t get soft, flexible, braided rope here in this +country. We don’t go in for mountain climbing +enough to make it.” +</p> +<p> +Tom was now fastened on the lower end of the +rope, and the doctor in the middle, and the ascent +began. +</p> +<p> +“You watch me use the rope,” the doctor said to +Tom. “It will show you how to do it, if you ever +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> +have to be second man on a climb—and it will keep +you from looking down, also!” +</p> +<p> +Spider was almost as anxious to learn how to use +the rope properly as he was to get up the cliff. He +had hoped to climb, when he came to the Park, but +he never dreamed he would be climbing with a real +Alpine rope, manipulated by a man who had been +up the Matterhorn, and with the leader of the party +an old goat hunter. +</p> +<p> +For the benefit of the boys who are reading this +book, I want to tell just how Dr. Kent used the rope. +No boy, or man, either, should ever try to climb a +cliff without a rope, and without proper shoes, with +plenty of strong, sharp spikes. The rope must be +strong enough to hold the weight of three or four +men, at the very least, and it must be soft and +pliable. If you cannot get such a soft rope, boil an +ordinary one in a wash-boiler till it loses its stiffness. +But, even when you have the rope, you must +not use it on a cliff until you have learned the +proper methods, preferably under the guidance of +some man who has climbed in England or the Alps +or the Rockies. +</p> +<p> +Now in rope climbing up rocks, the leader has the +hardest job because he has to find the way up, and +to climb without any rope to help him. But the +second man has what is perhaps the most important +job, for he is the anchor; it is on him that the life of +the leader may depend, as well as the life of the man +below. +</p> +<p> +Suppose three men are fastened on the rope +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span> +almost fifty feet apart, as Tom, Mills and Dr. Kent +were, for the average rope is about a hundred feet +long. The first man starts climbing, and when he +gets up nearly to the full play of his fifty feet of rope, +he finds some ledge where he can rest, or some firm +projection where he can throw his end of the rope +over, take a half hitch, and thus make a firm line for +the second man to climb with. The second man +comes up to him, and the leader starts up again. +But now he is starting well up from the ground, and +if he got any higher and should fall, it would be bad, +so the second man, before the leader starts up, takes +a half turn around the firm projection with his end +of the stretch of rope between himself and number +one, or, if it is very steep and dangerous, perhaps +giving the leader a play of only fifteen or twenty +feet. Then if the leader should slip and fall, instead +of dragging off the second man with him, he would +fall only the distance between himself and the point +where the rope was secured to the rock. If the rope +was strong, it would bring him up short, dangling +against the cliff, and would not yank the second +man off with him. Of course, after three climbers +are well up the face of a cliff, if the leader should +fall without the rope being anchored between him +and number two, he would drag all three men off +with him, probably to death. That is why number +two position is so important in rope climbing. +</p> +<p> +And Tom was not long in realizing this. He saw +Mills go up easily to a shelf forty feet above, and +both the doctor and he scrambled up after him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span> +without needing the rope at all. The next stage +was not difficult, either, though the Ranger, as soon +as he was well above the shale pile, began to test +his hand-holds and foot-holds with the utmost care, +keeping in the faintly discernible goat track whenever +he could. But when they were up a hundred +and seventy-five feet or more, all three of them on a +ledge about three feet wide, they found themselves +directly against a perpendicular wall at least twenty-five +feet high. +</p> +<p> +Mills was studying the situation. “Coming down, +the goats jump it from that shelf above,” he said. +“You can see their tracks here where they land. +But they can’t climb it going up. They swing off +to the left, by this ledge—and look at it!” +</p> +<p> +Tom and the doctor looked. To the left the ledge +shrank to a cornice actually not over six inches wide. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean to tell me the goats walk around +on that?” the doctor demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” said Mills. “It probably leads to an easy +way around to the shelf over our heads, but we can’t +make it—at least, I don’t want to try, unless I have +to.” +</p> +<p> +Tom looked at the six inch ledge, and the hundred +and seventy-five foot drop below it, and said, +“Amen!” +</p> +<p> +“All right—straight up,” said the doctor. He +looked for a firm projection of rock, and took a turn +with the rope, while Mills picked up the slack and +tested it. +</p> +<p> +The Ranger studied the wall in front of him, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> +made a try. Anchored by the doctor from below, +he got up ten feet, but at that point he could not +find a single handhold higher up which would bear +his weight. After a long try, he descended to the +ledge again. +</p> +<p> +“No use, we’ve got to go around to the right, +and climb that big gully,” Mills said. “If this wall +stumps us, we’d find a dozen worse ones before we +got to the top.” +</p> +<p> +To get to the gully to the east of them, they had +to go along the ledge on which they stood. It was +wider to the east than six inches, which was its width +in the other direction, the direction the goats took at +this point, but it wasn’t any too wide for comfort, +and in places the precipice above actually overhung +it, and seemed to be crushing you down. In one +place they had to crawl on their hands and knees +under this overhang. In another place they came to +what the doctor called “a real transverse”—that is, +a very narrow shelf leading them around a projection +from the ledge they were on to another one, +with a sheer drop below it. +</p> +<p> +This transverse ledge was about fifteen feet long +before it widened. It may have been eighteen +inches wide, but to Tom it looked about six. It was +level enough, and firm, but it was cut out of the side +of an absolute precipice, and the sheer drop, before +you hit any ledge or slope below, to break your fall, +was at least a hundred feet. +</p> +<p> +“Dizzy?” the doctor asked Tom, noting the expression +that had come over the scout’s face. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Tom. “But I feel as if I would be if I +looked down.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor eyed him sharply. “I guess you’re +all right,” he said. “Remember, you’ll be anchored +fast, and look hard at your footing, focus on that, +and don’t see off at all. All ready, Mills.” +</p> +<p> +The Ranger walked out on the ledge quite calmly, +a little sideways, so he could lean back toward the +cliff, and tested each step to see that the ledge was +firm and his spikes were gripping. Then the doctor +went, even more coolly than Mills. Tom swallowed +a lump in his throat, called himself a “poor mut,” +and when he had the signal, followed the others. +He kept his eyes on the ledge, as the doctor told +him, though there was a horribly fascinating and indescribable +temptation to peep from the corners of +them down over the edge. He could feel the doctor +taking up the slack of the rope as he came, so that +with each step his fall would be shorter if he fell. +Then, suddenly, he was over! He had been cold +before he started, with a chill in his back as the wind +evaporated the perspiration. Now he was suddenly +hot again, and the sweat came out on his forehead. +</p> +<p> +The doctor was smiling at him. +</p> +<p> +“That’s your real initiation in rock climbing,” he +said. “You’re going good. Keep it up!” +</p> +<p> +The new ledge brought them to the big gully (the +one you see, filled with snow, in the picture). It still +had some snow in places when the party reached it, +but for the most part it was clear, though there was +a tiny trickle of water at the bottom. It was a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> +great, rough, jagged trough scooped out of the cliff +by ages of running snow water, and inclined at an +angle not very far off the perpendicular. +</p> +<p> +“Not quite a real chimney,” the doctor said +briefly. “It’s too big and open, and you can’t +stretch from side to side. Looks as if we’d have to +watch out for stones, too.” +</p> +<p> +“You will,” said Mills. +</p> +<p> +Even as he spoke, they heard a noise above them, +and the Ranger yelled, “Jump for shelter!” +</p> +<p> +All three sprang to one side of the gully, below a +projecting shelf of rock, and past them, thundering +down the chute, went a stone as big as a bucket, +just loosened by melting snow above. +</p> +<p> +Tom watched it go past, and began to think the +last place on the rope was not the softest berth he +could imagine. +</p> +<p> +The doctor now turned to him. “You see what +you’ve got to look out for, Tom,” he said. “For +each fresh climb, we’ll pick a place where there is +shelter for the man waiting below. But you’ve still +got to be on the watch, and dodge quick. This is +going to be a regular climb!” +</p> +<p> +It was! For the next three hours Tom did the +liveliest and the hardest work he had ever put in. +He had no chance to get dizzy looking down, for he +never even dared to look down. He looked up, +never knowing when the next stone or even shower +of stones would descend upon him, and prepared +every second to spring to right or left to dodge them. +They climbed by sending Mills out from under a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +protecting ledge and letting him shin up his fifty +feet. Then the doctor would follow, and when he +was up with Mills, Tom would emerge from under +the shelter, and join them. Then they would repeat +the process. But even with Mills and the doctor +standing still above him, Tom had to look out for +rocks. They were always coming down, loosened +by the melting snow above, as well as by the feet of +the climbers. +</p> +<p> +And it was hard work, too. Not only was the +gully tremendously steep, but it was rough, in places +wet and slippery, and finally half full of snow. +When they reached the snow, their worst troubles +came, for they had no ice axes to make steps, and +without steps they could not climb on the snow, it +was so steep. They had to work up the side of the +gully, by whatever toe holds they could find. The +gully was steeper than a flight of very steep stairs—in +places, indeed, it was almost perpendicular,—and +Tom’s breath began to come hard and his legs +tremble with weariness. But Mills kept plugging upward, +and the towering, upright pinnacles of the +summit began to loom nearer and nearer. +</p> +<p> +Finally Mills, without warning, turned out of the +gully, close to its top, and swung out on a wide +ledge right under the final two or three hundred feet +of the climb. On this ledge, which didn’t show +from below, was a regular little garden of moss +campion and Alpine wild flowers. +</p> +<p> +“Goat food,” said Mills, shortly. He had hardly +spoken a word since the first bad place, and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span> +doctor had been equally silent They sat down to +rest on this wide ledge, and looked off at last upon +the great prospect below them, with the lake, like a +little green mirror now, far beneath. +</p> +<p> +“Wonderful!” the doctor exclaimed. “A magnificent +balcony seat we have in this amphitheatre, +and no ushers to bother us. Mills, you’re a good +climber—you don’t talk.” +</p> +<p> +Mills smiled. “Never knew a safe mountain man +who did talk on a cliff or a glacier,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“No, you can’t watch your footing and gabble at +the same time. Bah! how I hate a talker on a climb!” +</p> +<p> +“A man came out here once in a big party,” said +the Ranger. “I took ’em up Cleveland. When we +hit the real climb, he fetched out a sign from his +pack, and hung it on his back. It read, ‘I’m not +very sociable when I’m climbing.’” +</p> +<p> +The doctor and Tom laughed, and the former +added, “There’s a wise man!” +</p> +<p> +The ledge on which they sat, which was like a +little secret garden hung up here two thousand feet +above the lake, was covered with goat tracks, and +Mills pointed out several little caves, too, under +overhanging rocks, where, he said, the kids were +probably born. Above them, the last three hundred +feet of the cliff went up perfectly straight, and +Tom didn’t see how they were going to get any +farther. +</p> +<p> +But Mills presently rose and led the way to a +“chimney,” which is the name given to an open +cleft in a rock wall. This chimney was so narrow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> +that a man could brace his back on one side, and his +feet on the other, and climb it just as you climb a +well. Of course, it was rough, with plenty of projections +to cling to. Mills had the hardest job here, +for he had no rope to help him. +</p> +<p> +The doctor spoke in here, breaking his rule. +</p> +<p> +“Do the goats use this chimney?” he shouted up. +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” Mills replied. “Can’t you see the marks +of their hoofs? They jump from side to side right +up it.” +</p> +<p> +“All I can say is, I’d like to see ’em,” was the +somewhat sceptical answer. +</p> +<p> +The chimney work was great sport, but it was also +hard work. Tom’s back was sore, his hands bruised, +his arms weary, before they reached the top. But +finally he saw Mills disappear over the rim, and then +the doctor; and finally he himself crawled out of the +cleft, and stood on the very summit of the precipice. +And then Tom gasped, and forgot he was hot, forgot +he was tired, forgot his hands were bruised by +the rough rocks, forgot the moments when his heart +had been either in his boots or his throat, forgot +everything but the bigness of that prospect! He +almost forgot to look at his watch; but the doctor +didn’t. +</p> +<p> +“Four hours and a half to go two thousand feet!” +the doctor said. “That’s the hardest rock climb I +ever made. You don’t need to go to Switzerland +for real mountain climbing, Mills. You’ve got it +here, right in your back yard.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span><a name='chXVII' id='chXVII'></a>CHAPTER XVII—Tom Sees Both Mountain Sheep and Goats Do Their Wild Leaps Down Dizzy Ledges</h2> +<p> +Below the great wall up which they had +climbed lay the little green lake, and now +they could see a horseback party which had come +up to the shore, see them with the utmost distinctness, +like tiny toys. Out beyond the lake stretched +the green cañon, back to camp, and all to the south +the piled up peaks and white snow-fields. But it +was to the north that the view was best. The spot +where they stood was not on the Divide, but a spur, +or spine of rock running east from the Divide. This +spine was only thirty or forty feet wide in places, +and plunged down to the north, not quite so steeply, +but quite steeply enough, to another little lake, and +beyond that lake shot up the ragged gray and +brown and red battlements of Mount Merritt. Merritt +also stands just east of the Divide, so that they +were looking into a second horseshoe amphitheatre, +and on the high, steep sides of this amphitheatre, +extending almost to the top of Mount Merritt, were +no less than five glaciers. It was a wild, desolate +picture, far wilder than the Iceberg Lake cirque, +because there was less verdure, and not a trail or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span> +human being in it—only glaciers and precipices and +wild, tumbled, jagged mountains. +</p> +<p> +The doctor gazed in silence for several minutes, +and then he said, +</p> +<p> +“Tom, how do you like it?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it’s wonderful! I never knew anything in +the world could be so—so big and lonely and sort of +endless.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor smiled. “My family and a lot of my +friends think I’m crazy to risk my neck climbing,” +he went on, “but they don’t know. They don’t +know the fun of pitting your human cunning and +will power against a precipice, and then, when you’ve +conquered it, reaching a wild spot like this and seeing +the whole world spread out at your feet. There’s +nothing like it. I give my patients pills, but this is +the medicine I take myself.” +</p> +<p> +They now ate their sandwiches, which were pretty +well mashed up in their pockets, and quenched their +thirst as best they could by eating snow. Then they +explored along the ragged ridge a bit, finding in the +centre of the spine, winding in and out amid the +rough battlements, a distinct game trail, like a foot-path. +In spots it was so plain that you would have +thought men walked over it every day. +</p> +<p> +Mills presently went on ahead, softly, and after a +while they saw him beckoning to them, and cautioning +silence. He was at the edge of the cliff, peering +over. Tom and the doctor tiptoed up and looked +over, also. +</p> +<p> +There, not a hundred feet below them, on a wide +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> +ledge, were five goats! There was an old billy, +standing on the edge, looking off and down, evidently +inspecting with some suspicion the party +which was now lighting a camp-fire for luncheon +down on the lake shore. There were two nannies, +one eating moss and one scratching herself with her +hind leg. And, finally, there were two kids, as playful +as kittens, jumping around. Now and then one +of the kids would give a leap and go up the cliff to +a rock projection higher than his head, jump from +that to another, and so climb ten or a dozen feet. +Then he would jump off, head foremost, and land +beside the old goats. +</p> +<p> +The three unsuspected human beings watched +them for several minutes. It certainly was a pretty +sight, and the most wonderful part of it to Tom was +that these kids were born up here, thousands of feet +above the level earth, and perhaps would never get +lower in their lives than the shale slide above Iceberg +Lake! +</p> +<p> +“You always have to get at ’em from above,” +Mills whispered. “They don’t seem to expect +danger from that quarter. It’s below that they +watch out. Want to see ’em dive?” +</p> +<p> +The doctor nodded, and the Ranger suddenly +gave a loud shout. +</p> +<p> +The old billy did not even look up. He simply +went head foremost over the edge of the shelf, +where he had been standing, and disappeared. One +by one, in exactly the same place, the others followed +him, a kid going last. From where the men +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +lay, a hundred feet above, the goats appeared to be +dropping off into space, and to certain death. +</p> +<p> +“Good gracious!” Dr. Kent exclaimed. “Where’d +they go to?” +</p> +<p> +Mills didn’t answer. His eyes were scanning the +cliff wall below. Suddenly he pointed to the left, +at least two hundred yards away and lower down +the slope. There were the five goats, trotting along +like three big snowballs and two little ones, on a +shelf not a foot wide. They went around a sort of +cornice on a shelf so narrow that the men, a quarter +of a mile away, actually could not see it at all—the +goats seemed to be just moving like flies on a +wall—and disappeared. A moment later they came +in sight again, farther around on the cliff, climbing +rapidly up a gully, or chimney, by sharp, quick +leaps from side to side, each leap landing them +higher, and at the top they reached a shelf which +led to the summit, and disappeared. +</p> +<p> +“They’ll go down on the other side, and be over +on Mount Merritt in an hour,” said Mills. “Oh, +you get a lot of exercise hunting ’em!” +</p> +<p> +“We could have got a shot at ’em at the very +start, before you scared them,” said the doctor, “and +after that there wasn’t a spot they took where a +man could follow till they were out of range, or a +spot where he could have shot one without its falling +so far it would smash the head to bits. If I hunted, +that’s the sport I’d like! The game has a better +chance than you do. But I don’t hunt, thank the +Lord.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> +</p> +<p> +“You’d better not, in the Park,” Mills laughed. +“I wish I could show you a bighorn, now. They +beat the goats at diving, though they don’t climb up +so well, or no better.” +</p> +<p> +The men went back to the place where they had +left the rope, and decided it was time to begin the +descent. But before starting, the Ranger made +another little trip along the top, in the opposite +direction, in the hopes of seeing a sheep, for he said +he knew sheep were around there. +</p> +<p> +“If I signal, bring the rope along,” he said, “and +come softly. We might be able to make one take a +good jump.” +</p> +<p> +He must have been nearly a quarter of a mile +away when he waved his hand, and Tom and the +doctor hurried toward him. Again he was peering +over the cliff, this time on the north side, at a point +where it was very steep. It dropped straight down +about forty feet to a ledge, and on this ledge was a +fine old ram, with magnificent curling horns, two +ewes, and one lamb. They were all feeding, quite +unaware of danger, evidently secure in the knowledge +that no prowling mountain lion would drop +down those forty feet of precipice from above. The +ledge on one side led out to an easy slope. On the +other side it narrowed to about four feet, and then +ended abruptly. +</p> +<p> +“Quick!” Mills whispered, taking the rope. +Softly, without a sound, he hitched it around a rock +pile, and held the free end. “Now, the instant I +throw this over,” he whispered again, “you and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span> +Tom go down it. The sheep will be cut off, and +have to jump from the other end of the ledge. +They’ll go quick, and you’ll have to, also, to +see ’em.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor and Tom stood by, Mills dropped the +rope over the edge, and first Dr. Kent and then Tom +slid down it, so fast their hands burned. But the +sheep were quicker. Before they reached the ledge, +the last one was overboard. Tom and his companion +dashed to the end where they had jumped, lay on +their stomachs, and peered down over. +</p> +<p> +It was a drop of twenty feet or so to the first shelf +below. On this shelf were the two ewes and the +lamb. The old ram had already jumped to the next +one, another twenty feet lower. This second shelf +was tiny, and would hold only one sheep at a time. +More than that, it was not directly under the first, +but six or eight feet to the left. As the man and boy +reached the edge, they saw the ram leave this shelf +head foremost, and go down the cliffside, kicking the +wall as he went with his hoofs, and land on a third +ledge, seventy-five feet below them. No sooner was +he off, than one of the ewes jumped for the shelf he +had just deserted. She, too, kicked the wall with +her hoofs, striking hard, incredibly rapid blows, and +these kicks, very carefully directed, propelled her +just far enough to one side as she fell to enable her +to reach the shelf. When she landed on it, with all +four feet bunched, it looked from above as if her +shoulders were coming up through the brown wool +on her back. She seemed to bounce as she hit, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> +with the bounce went right off again, to the ledge +below, which the old ram had already left, and was +now on a safe, wide shelf far beneath, and trotting +off toward the slopes that led around to the wall of +the Great Divide. The second ewe followed her, +with exactly the same tactics, and then the lamb +went bouncing down, as if it was all a game, landed +almost like a rubber ball, bounced off to the next +ledge, kicking the cliff wall with his little hoofs faster +than a cat can strike with its paw. +</p> +<p> +In much less time than it has taken to tell it, all +the sheep were on the slope a hundred feet below, +and before the doctor and Tom could get up on +their feet again, the little flock was out of sight +around a shoulder of the cliff! +</p> +<p> +“Well! I’ve seen chamois in the Alps, but I never +saw anything like that!” the doctor cried. “The +cool nerve of that lamb! Why, they go right off +into space, and their eyes are so accurate and their +feet so quick that they kick themselves six feet to +one side in falling twenty, and land safely on a shelf +not big enough for a boy to stand on!” +</p> +<p> +The two climbed back up the rope to Mills. +</p> +<p> +“Get a good show?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“That was the most interesting and thrilling exhibition +of animal strength and skill I ever witnessed,” +Dr. Kent answered. “And what a handsome +creature the old ram is, with those great, curving +horns! Why, a monkey in a tree isn’t so active and +daring! Besides, the monkey has branches to fall +into, and the sheep have only space, with sure death +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> +below. Aren’t they ever killed? Don’t they ever +miss?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said the Ranger. “But in all the +years I used to hunt ’em, I never saw one miss badly +enough to be killed on a cliff he knew. It’s when +they get surprised and have to jump on a strange wall, +maybe on the way to some new feeding ground, that +they hit an impossible dive. On their regular beats, +they seem to know every foot of the rocks. Sometimes +the snowslides catch ’em in winter, though.” +</p> +<p> +They were walking back, or, rather, scrambling +back, toward the point where their chimney came +up, as Mills talked. It was getting along in the +afternoon now, the tourist party was leaving Iceberg +Lake and winding down the trail like ants, and the +three, without further delay, prepared to descend. +</p> +<p> +And now, for the first time, Tom learned the use +of the doubled rope, in the descent. The doctor’s +rope, which had seemed clumsily long to him on the +way up—a hundred feet for only three men—now +was not long enough! They did not fasten themselves +to it at all, except on the dangerous transverses. +Instead, they hung it at the centre around some firm +rock, dropped the two ends down the cliff, and then, +grasping both strands, slid down them to the farthest +ledge below which they could reach. That meant a +possible slide of fifty feet, of course, with a hundred +foot rope. Then, when all three were at the bottom, +all they had to do was to pull on one strand, and the +other side would go up till the end was freed from +the rock above and came tumbling down. By this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span> +method they could take straight drops down the +very steepest places, when, on the ascent, they had +been obliged to work in the gully, with falling rocks +threatening them. It amounted to descending by +fifty foot jumps, and as soon as Tom learned to keep +both strands of the rope equally firm in his hands so +that there was no play whatever, he felt quite confident. +</p> +<p> +Of course, to let go of either strand while you are +descending the doubled rope means that all your +weight comes on one side, the top will slip, and down +you will go. To avoid that, either Mills or the doctor +came last for several hundred feet, keeping a +hand on the rope while Tom slid down. But they +soon saw he had the hang of it, and let him go first, +or last, or in the middle, as it chanced, without any +more worry. +</p> +<p> +By this method, their descent was rapid. Of course, +it took time, for they had a long way to go, and you +never hurry on a dangerous cliff. You go cautiously, +deliberately, and sometimes you have to hunt three +or four minutes to find a strong enough hold for +the rope. But it was much faster than the ascent, +and even though Tom’s hands were soon red and +burning from sliding down the rope, for he had no +leather gloves, he enjoyed this new sport more than +anything he had ever done. +</p> +<p> +They reached the top of the shale pile at last, at +half-past six, having kept to the goat trail all the +way down, out of the gully. They coiled up the +rope, and went lunging down over the loose shale +and then through the scrub trees and bushes, to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> +brook which flowed out to the lake. Here, as if on +a signal, all three of them dropped on their knees +on the stones, buried their faces in the ice water, and +drank, and drank, and drank. +</p> +<p> +“So much perspiring, and such rapid evaporation +in the wind up there, certainly does use up the water +in your system,” the doctor said, as his face emerged +dripping from the brook, and he put on his glasses +again. “Free ice water, too. Look at the chunks +of ice floating around in it—and here it is August, +and flowers growing on the bank!” +</p> +<p> +Mills got the horses, and they mounted. Tom +could hardly have truthfully said he “vaulted into +the saddle,” however. He got up with considerable +difficulty, for he was stiff and lame, and his arms +were trembling from such long, hard strain in going +up and then down the rope. But it was certainly +good to be in the saddle, once you got there, and +find yourself being carried, instead of having to do +the work. +</p> +<p> +The Ranger at once began to trot. The trail to +Iceberg Lake is such a good one, and the grade is +so easy, that you can trot over a good deal of the +distance, and Mills did not let any grass grow under +their feet, especially as the horses were fresh. When +they reached the woods near home, and the trail was +almost level, he broke into a gallop, and with the +doctor (who was not a good rider) wildly hanging to +the horn of his saddle, they tore past a party just +coming in from Swift Current, and dashed up to the +tepee camp, where Joe was waiting for them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +</p> +<p> +The camp was full of hikers—a whole party of +men and women, ten or a dozen. They were busily +cooking on the stove, and the doctor looked anything +but pleased. +</p> +<p> +“Where do I come in, Joe?” he asked, as he +climbed from his horse. +</p> +<p> +“I thought maybe you’d rather come down to our +little camp for supper,” said Joe. “I can’t use the +stove here till this gang gets through, and Tom and +I have a rough sort of table at our camp, and I have +supper all ready to cook there, and I planned to have +Mr. Mills come, too. Tom and I will sort of give a +party.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, now, that’s fine!” said the doctor. “Mills +and I accept. Let me wash up in my tepee first, +and I’ll be with you.” +</p> +<p> +He went into his tepee. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll take the horses up to the cabin,” said the +Ranger, “and be with you in a jiffy. Say, Tom,” +[he added this in a low tone] “we had his number +wrong. He knows the climbing game from the +bottom up—he’s careful, he’s got nerve, he can pick +a hold every time, and he don’t gas. He gets my +vote.” +</p> +<p> +“Mine, too!” Tom answered. +</p> +<p> +“Everything O.K. here?” Tom asked Joe. +“These people got wood, and cots, and everything?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure—beat it, and wash your mug. Gee, you’re +dirty!” Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I guess you’d be if you’d been kissin’ an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> +old precipice all day,” Tom retorted. “Oh, gee, +Joe—this is the life! Some climb! Some old goats +and sheep! Some Park!” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and go and wash up if you want some +supper.” +</p> +<p> +Joe made sure the hikers had everything they +needed or wanted, and hurried down the path to the +scout camp, where he began to cook the supper, +while Tom was having a wash and getting into dry +underclothes and shirt. He had been to the chalet +store that afternoon and restocked the larder, and +secured a piece of a big, fresh steak which had just +come in by motor bus. This he now broiled over as +good a bed of coals as he could get from his soft +wood fire. He had coffee already boiling, and hot +soup, and some nice canned beans, and French fried +potatoes, and a surprise for dessert—nothing less +than four plates of fresh huckleberries, which he had +stumbled upon while taking a walk that noon, and +picked into his hat. +</p> +<p> +When Mills and the doctor arrived, this supper +was all ready, and the two men and two boys sat +down on the log seats around the rough table of +boards, and ate and talked, and talked and ate, +while the evening shadows crossed the lake and the +lights of the big hotel could be seen twinkling +through the trees. It was a jolly meal, and a good +one, and Tom had never in his life felt so hungry, +and deliciously lame and sore and tired, so that a +long draught of hot coffee seemed to go warming +and tingling through all his body. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +</p> +<p> +After supper, Joe would not let him go back to +the tepee camp, but went himself to see that everything +was fixed for the night. Tom just sat by the +blazing camp-fire, while Mills and Dr. Kent smoked, +and listened to the talk of the two men, who swapped +yarns about mountain climbing. The doctor had +been up rock crags in the Austrian Tyrol, thrilling +precipices steeper than the wall of Iceberg Lake, and +he had climbed over ice and snow, also, where you +had to cut steps with an ice axe. But Mills, who +had never been east of Omaha in his life, had once +ridden down a mountain on a snow avalanche, +(needless to say, without intending to!) and had +seen a mother goat standing over her kid on the +ledge of a precipice fighting off a bald eagle. Tom +listened with ears wide open, and though he was +sleepy and tired, he was sorry when the men rose to +depart. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll come here for breakfast, boys, if you don’t +mind,” the doctor said. “Those hikers may be an +estimable collection of citizens and citizenesses, but +I came out here to get away from folks. Good-night, +Tom. We’ll have to have one more climb +before I go—day after to-morrow, I guess. To-morrow +I’m going back to Iceberg Lake and look +at the flowers more carefully. Good-night, Joe. +Good-night, Mills. Thanks for coming to-day. You +Rocky Mountain goat hunters don’t need any course +of training in the Alps.” +</p> +<p> +“Good-night,” the scouts called, as the two men +disappeared in opposite directions. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +</p> +<p> +Tom told Joe all that had happened as they got +ready for bed, and ended by declaring he was too +excited still to go to sleep. +</p> +<p> +Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +“I thought I was, the first day over Piegan,” said +he. “But the old Rockies fooled me. I slept, all +right. So’ll you.” +</p> +<p> +And Tom did. In fact, it is doubtful if he heard +the tail end of Joe’s sentence. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span><a name='chXVIII' id='chXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XVIII—Joe Gets Good News From the Doctor, And The Scouts Name Their Camp, “Camp Kent”</h2> +<p> +The next morning Dr. Kent arrived, rather +cross, at the boys’ camp, for the hikers had +waked him up early, and he told Joe nothing but a +good breakfast would set the world right. Joe did +his best, and then put up some lunch for him, and +he went off presently in better spirits, to spend the +day, as he put it, “loafing with the wild flowers and +inviting my soul.” Joe also cooked his dinner when +he returned at night. The next day, he said, would +be his last, and he insisted that Tom go with him up +on Grinnell Glacier. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll have a little more practice with the rope,” +he said, “and you can see if you can tumble into a +crevasse the way your friend Joe did.” +</p> +<p> +So Joe, for a second time, took charge of the +camp, and Tom left with the doctor, bright and +early. It wasn’t a hard climb up to the glacier, and +they crossed it, using Tom’s scout axe for cutting +steps when necessary, and the doctor sent Tom +ahead a little way up a cliff, and then reversed +positions on the rope, and let Tom take number two +position. They climbed far enough up on the great +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span> +gray shoulder of Gould Mountain to look down on +the glacier, on the lake far below that, on the green +meadow, and then returned leisurely to camp. +</p> +<p> +On the way back Tom got up courage to ask +Dr. Kent what he had been longing to ask him ever +since he learned of his profession. That was, to +examine Joe. He told his new friend of Joe’s condition, +and why they were in the Park, and how he +was responsible for him, and did not want him to go +on trips and do hard work if it wasn’t safe. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll see if I can borrow a stethoscope from the +hotel,” Dr. Kent said. “There must be a house +physician there. Then I’ll give him the once over, +gladly. Anybody who can make coffee like his +mustn’t be allowed to die! But he doesn’t look like +a sick boy to me.” +</p> +<p> +True to his word, he got the instrument, and before +dinner took Joe into the scouts’ tent, stripped +him, and examined him very carefully. +</p> +<p> +“Who told you you had tuberculosis?” he finally +said. +</p> +<p> +“Dr. Meyer,” Joe replied. +</p> +<p> +“What Dr. Meyer—not Julius Meyer?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, in Southmead.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, if <em>he</em> said you had, then I suppose you did +have,” Dr. Kent replied. “But, frankly, I can’t find +any trace of it in your lungs now.” +</p> +<p> +“But ought he to do hard work?” Tom asked. +</p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t let him over-strain,” the doctor said, +“and if he climbs, make him climb rather slowly. +But out here in this wonderful land I don’t believe +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> +he need worry much any more. If you can keep +him here for a few months more, living this outdoor +life, and then if he is careful when he gets +back, I think he’ll be a well man by the time he gets +his full growth.” +</p> +<p> +“But we have to get back to go to school,” Joe +said. “I couldn’t let old Spider lose out on school, +even if I did.” +</p> +<p> +“What are you planning to become? What are +you studying to be?” the man asked. +</p> +<p> +“We want to go into the forest service,” both +scouts answered. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, fine! That’s a coming job, boys, but one +that Joe can’t take, if he isn’t cured thoroughly. +Think of this—your life out here is the best training +you could have for the forest service. You can +afford to miss six months of school to learn how to +live in the big woods and the wild places. If you +should camp with Mills till Christmas, say, you’d +really be going to school, and Joe would be taking +tonic twenty-four hours a day. Think it over, +boys.” +</p> +<p> +That night, after dinner, which he again ate at the +scouts’ camp, the tepee camp being again filled up +with hikers, he paid Joe at the regular rate of three +dollars a day for cooking his meals, and paid for the +food, all except the dinner Joe had got ready the +night of the first climb, which the scouts declared +was their treat. Then he picked up his Alpine rope +and handed it to Tom. +</p> +<p> +“How’d you like this for a souvenir?” he asked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> +</p> +<p> +Tom gasped. “For <em>me</em>!” he exclaimed. “Oh, +Dr. Kent, I—I—why, what’ll you do?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m taking the bus out in the morning,” the +doctor said. “I’ve other ropes at home. You boys +might like to do a little climbing. But promise me +you’ll pick easy grades to learn on, unless Mills is +with you.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you!” Tom cried. “I—I never guessed +I’d own a real Alpine rope. Feel of it, Joe—ain’t it +soft?” +</p> +<p> +“I move we name this shack of ours Camp Kent,” +said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Carried!” Tom cried. “Camp Kent it is—and +I guess we won’t forget whom it’s named for in a +hurry, either.” +</p> +<p> +“Thanks, boys,” the doctor laughed. “And I +won’t forget you. I wish I were going to stay here +a month, and use the rope with you. But I’ve got +to get back to the sick people who can’t come to the +Park for a tonic. Good-bye—and good luck. Joe, +keep up the good work—live out-of-doors, keep dry, +don’t worry, and you’ll live to be ninety-nine. Tom—don’t +forget to test your anchor stone! I’ll be out +in the morning early, and get my grub at the hotel. +Good-bye.” +</p> +<p> +“Good-bye,” the boys said. +</p> +<p> +And when he was gone they looked at each other, +at the coil of soft, strong, beautifully braided Alpine +rope, and Tom exclaimed: +</p> +<p> +“Well, by gosh! you never can tell. When he +blew in, with those funny old blue socks on, and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +spectacles, and his talk about the Matterhorn, I +thought he was a freak or hot air artist, and so did +Mr. Mills. Instead of that he’s a prince—that’s what +he is, a prince!” +</p> +<p> +“I never said anything at the time,” Joe answered. +“But I liked him all along. Gee, I bet he’s a good +doc, all right.” +</p> +<p> +“I bet he is, too—and he says you’re all right +now!” Tom cried, giving Joe a punch and a hug. +“We can go climbing with this old rope together +pretty soon. By jiminy, we <em>got</em> to carry our cameras +up a cliff and get some goat pictures. Say, that’s +the sport! And I’m going to see Mr. Mills about +staying on with him, and write home about school, +and we’ll just stay here and see the snow come, and +get our skis sent on, and, gee, it’ll be wonderful!” +</p> +<p> +“If we do that, I got to get busy and earn +money,” Joe replied. “I’m going over to the Saddle +Company offices at the hotel to-morrow and see +about another cooking job.” +</p> +<p> +“Go to it,” said Spider. “I’m willing, now the +doc says it’s O.K.” +</p> +<p> +But he didn’t have to go over to the hotel. That +very evening a bell-boy from the hotel came for +him, and he set out the next morning with a party +on a four day trip. They went over Piegan Pass +again, then up into the Red Eagle country south of +St. Mary Lake, then up on to the top of the Divide +over Triple Divide Peak, where the water from the +snow-fields flows in three directions—to the Pacific, +to the Missouri River, and so to the Gulf of Mexico, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span> +and to the St. Mary River, then the Saskatchewan +River and so to Hudson Bay and the Arctic Ocean. +</p> +<p> +They descended to the headwaters of the Cut +Bank River (so called because of its steep banks) +and camped in a lovely cañon. Then, for the next +stage, they climbed practically over the old war trail +of the Blackfeet Indians, who went across the Divide +over Cut Bank Pass to attack their foes, the Flathead +Indians, on the west side. Then, for their final stage, +they took the so-called Dry Fork Trail, to Two +Medicine Lake. This was a thrilling trip, over a +portion of the Divide that truly deserved the Indian +name of the backbone of the world. At one point +the knife-blade ridge was only thirty feet wide, with +yawning precipices on either side. The chief guide +said, “This is the place where they say you can spit +down into the lake three thousand feet on the east, +and throw a stone more than that on the west.” Joe +didn’t have to get off his horse and try, in order to +believe him. And he was glad enough there was +not a gale blowing, too! +</p> +<p> +The trail finally led down around the base of old +Rising Wolf Mountain to the Two Medicine chalets, +on the lake, where the party spent the night. +</p> +<p> +Early the next morning, the party left for the railroad +by bus, and Joe went with them to Glacier Park +Hotel, where he caught the Many Glacier morning +bus back to his own camp. It was a fine trip, with +splendid scenery, but he missed Mills as the chief +guide, and still more he missed the friendly companionship +of Bob, Alice and Lucy, who had made his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span> +first trip so much like a family party. On this +second trip he was just the cook for a group of three +men and their wives. But it meant twelve more +precious dollars for his fund—or, rather, it meant six +dollars for his fund, and six to send home to his +mother. +</p> +<p> +When he got back “home,” as he called it, he +found Tom had carved a sign, “Camp Kent,” on a +piece of board, and nailed it to a tree by their tent. +He also found Tom full of an exciting piece of news. +</p> +<p> +“There’s going to be a Blackfeet Indian pow-wow +here at Many Glacier to-morrow,” he said, “and it’s +going to end with a barbecue, which Big Bertha +says is almost as good as a Hi-yu-Mulligan-potlatch.” +</p> +<p> +“As a <em>what</em>?” Joe demanded. +</p> +<p> +“No, not a <em>what</em>, a Hi-yu-Mulligan-potlatch,” +Tom laughed. “Big Bertha says out in Washington, +where he comes from, when they want to give +the Indians a good time they give ’em a potlatch, +which means a free feed, and a Mulligan potlatch is +one where the free feed is Mulligan stew, and a Hi-yu-Mulligan-potlatch +is just a jim-swizzler of a potlatch +that makes an Indian yell, Hi-yu! Get it +now?” +</p> +<p> +“I get it,” Joe laughed. “But what’s a pow-wow, +and why’s it being held here?” +</p> +<p> +“I guess a pow-wow is short for an Indian good +time, and it’s being held here to give the folks at the +hotel something to look at—as if the mountains +weren’t enough. The hotel is crammed full, and so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span> +are the chalets, and I had three people in every tepee +last night. I’ve been doing nothing since you left +but chop wood, and haul water, and air blankets.” +</p> +<p> +“Poor old Tom,” said Joe. “Well, I got twelve +cartwheels in my jeans—feels like a ton o’ coal, too. +That’ll help toward the autumn. Now I’ll help you +get the camp ready for the hikers that are coming in +to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s all ready,” Tom answered. “The crowd +last night got away early this morning. The Indians +are going to get here this afternoon, and set +up their tepees down on the flats below the falls. +We’re going to walk down there now and see ’em +come in, so hurry up and get yourself some grub. +I’ve had mine. I was up at five to-day and couldn’t +wait for your old bus to get in at one-thirty.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes,” said Joe, as +he put some bacon in a pan. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span><a name='chXIX' id='chXIX'></a>CHAPTER XIX—The Indian Pow-Wow—Tom and Joe Get Into The Squaw Dance</h2> +<p> +The Indians were arriving when the boys reached +the meadows below the falls, and were already +beginning to set up their wigwams, or tepees, beside +the Swift Current. The chiefs and braves, in their +Indian dress, with feathered head-gear and bright +blankets, were on horseback, and so were most of +the squaws and children; but the tepees were being +transported from the reservation out on the prairie +in motor buses, and there was even an entire Indian +family in a touring car, with the brave at the wheel! +</p> +<p> +“Gee whiz, times change all right,” said Spider. +“Even the Indians have automobiles.” +</p> +<p> +Nearly a hundred Blackfeet arrived, all told, fine +looking men and women for the most part, although +the older squaws were fat and huddled up in their +blankets, looking like funny bears. What struck +Joe and Tom first of all, however, was the good +nature of these Indians. +</p> +<p> +“I always thought Indians were silent and sort of +grouchy,” Tom said to Mills, who was on hand to +help the Indians get settled in camp and see that +the hotel, which had induced them to come, provided +enough for them to eat. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> +</p> +<p> +“Not at all,” the Ranger answered. “They are +always laughing and joking, as you see. They are +a very happy people, and they have a mighty hard +time of it, too. They don’t know how to raise cattle +or grain, because they’ve always been hunters. Now +the government has taken the Park away from them, +and won’t let ’em hunt here, and they half starve +every winter. I tell you, I’m sorry for ’em.” +</p> +<p> +The boys moved among them freely, listening to +their strange language, and watching the tepees go +up. Some of these tepees were made of tanned +skins, mostly elk skins, but one or two very old ones +of buffalo skins. They were stretched around a frame +of lodge-pole pines, leaving a hole at the peak where +the smoke could rise, as through a chimney. On +the outside were painted in various colors bands and +designs, and in the case of the chiefs, funny figures +of buffalo and men chasing them on horseback, and +other men being killed in battle. These pictures, +Mills said, were painted by the chiefs themselves, +and depicted the life history and exploits of each +warrior. +</p> +<p> +“Good idea,” Tom laughed. “You sort of paint +your autobiography on the outside of your house.” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose when you get home, you’ll draw a +picture of yourself climbing a cliff, over your front +door,” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“And you can draw yourself falling down the +cellar hatchway,” Tom retorted. +</p> +<p> +By late afternoon, the tepees were all up, smoke +was ascending from the peaks, the horses of each +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span> +brave were tethered near their master’s lodge, in the +centre of the camp was a large, flat open space, to +be used later for the dances, and here the little Indian +children were now playing. When the flap of +a lodge was lifted, you could see women inside, +cooking or laying beds of skins and blankets. The +funny Indian dogs, mongrels of all shapes, sizes +and colors, were roaming around. Beside the camp +flowed the Swift Current, green and foaming, and +behind it rose the towering walls of the cañon sides. +Except for the tourists who had come down from +the hotel to watch, and the one Indian automobile +parked near by, the camp might have been an Indian +village of two hundred years ago, before the +white men ever came. Tom and Joe were reluctant +to leave, it all seemed so like a picture out of the +past, the picture of a life and a race now fast vanishing +from the earth. They took many pictures of the +camp before they finally went back to their own +camp, to see if any hikers had arrived. +</p> +<p> +A party was coming down the trail just as they +got there, and Tom was soon busy. But when supper +was over, he and Joe went back, taking the +hikers along, to see the camp again. As they drew +near, they heard strange noises, the TÚM-<em>tum</em>, TÚM-<em>tum</em>, +of Indian drums. The pow-wow had begun. +</p> +<p> +“It won’t amount to much, though, till to-morrow,” +Mills said. “They just get worked up a little +to-night.” +</p> +<p> +There was a big fire going in the central dancing +ground, and near it, dressed in all their finery, two +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> +of them stripped bare to the waist with their skins +covered with yellow paint, were the three makers of +music, each holding a shallow skin drum in one +hand and beating it with the other, in a regular, monotonous, +unvaried rhythm, a two-foot beat, heavily +accented on the first foot—TÚM-<em>tum</em>, TÚM-<em>tum</em>, TÚM-<em>tum</em>, +over and over, rather slowly. As they pounded +out this rhythm, they kept laughing, emitting yells +and calls, and sometimes sang. Meanwhile some +boy or young brave would spring out into the fire-light, +in the centre of the ring of braves and squaws +and children squatted or standing around, and dance +to the music, going through strange gestures, brandishing +a decorated spear, stooping, bending, circling +around, but always, the boys soon detected, adhering +to some formal plan, although they didn’t know +what this dance might signify, and always surprisingly +graceful. +</p> +<p> +“Some of those dances are very intricate,” Mills +said to them, as an Indian boy, after finishing a +hard dance, dropped panting back into the circle, +while the older braves applauded and another took +his place instantly. “It takes a boy weeks to learn +them, and each one has a meaning. It may be the +boy’s medicine dance, part of the ritual which will +keep harm away from him.” +</p> +<p> +Even after the scouts left, they could hear the +TÚM-<em>tum</em> of the drums, till the roar of the falls +drowned it. The next day they hurried back, as +soon as the camp work was done, and found the +Indians dancing again, in broad daylight now, of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span> +course, with a great crowd of tourists around watching +them. They were still at it when the boys came +back after luncheon, seemingly untiring. But presently +they stopped, and an old chief stepped out and +began to make a speech. +</p> +<p> +“What’s he talking about?” Tom asked Mills, +edging in close to the circle. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t ask me—I can’t talk the language,” the +Ranger answered. “Hi, Pete, what’s old Stabs-by-Mistake +saying?” +</p> +<p> +This last question was addressed to a half-breed who +was standing just in front of them, in the Indian circle. +</p> +<p> +Pete, who was dressed in cowboy costume, but +without any hat, turned with a grin. +</p> +<p> +“He says they are going to take my white man +name away from me, and give me a Blackfeet +name,” Pete replied. “He says the white men give +the mountains foolish white man names, but I’m part +Indian, and they’re going to take my name, Pete +Jones, away from me.” +</p> +<p> +Stabs-by-Mistake (that was really the name of the +old chief, and not a joke of Mills’) now beckoned +Pete into the middle of the circle. Two or three +young braves danced around him, while the drums +beat and all the Indians shouted and sang, and then +the braves seized him, pretended to grab something +from him with their hands, and ran with this imaginary +thing to some bushes outside the camp. +They disappeared in these bushes, speedily reappeared +holding up their hands to show they were +empty, and came back to the circle. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> +</p> +<p> +“I suppose they dropped his old name in the +bushes!” Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” said Mills. +</p> +<p> +Now Stabs-by-Mistake rose to make another +speech. Pete stood before him, and he talked for +two or three minutes right at him, with many gestures, +while the Indians listened. The boys could +see that he had not yet given him a new name, and +all the Blackfeet were waiting, excited, to see what +the new name was going to be. Finally, Stabs-by-Mistake +laid his hand on Pete’s shoulder and spoke +very solemnly. Then he spoke the new name. As +he spoke it, he gave Pete a great slap on the back as +a sort of period to his oration, and at the same instant +the entire circle of Indians broke out into shouts +of laughter. Pete looked sheepish, and came back +toward the Ranger, red and grinning. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what’s your name now?” Mills asked. +</p> +<p> +“He made a big talk about giving me the name +of a great chief, gone to the Sand Hills long ago, +and then he said it was Lazy-Boy-Afraid-to-Work. +That’s why they are all laughing.” +</p> +<p> +Mills laughed, too. “He’s got your number, +Pete,” said he. +</p> +<p> +Now another chief was making a speech, and Pete +grinned at Mills. +</p> +<p> +“You’re in for it now,” he chuckled. “Yellow +Wolf says they’re going to give you an Indian +name.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, help!” Mills exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +He was led into the circle, looking uncomfortable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span> +and shy with so many tourists gazing at him. But +the boys knew he would rather have cut off his right +hand than hurt the Indians’ feelings by refusing. +For him, the ceremony was much more serious. +There was no laughing, and Yellow Wolf made a +grave and evidently impassioned speech to the +tribe, who listened and applauded. They did not go +through the comic ceremony of taking the Ranger’s +old name out into the bushes, but instead they sat +him down in a smaller circle of the chiefs, and passed +an Indian pipe around. Then, standing once more, +they danced and sang, and finally Yellow Wolf gave +him his new name, with a slap on the shoulder, while +the crowd expressed approval. Then a gorgeous +feathered head-dress was put on his head, instead of +a hat, and when he finally rejoined the boys, he was +still wearing this. +</p> +<p> +“What’s your name?” Tom asked. +</p> +<p> +“What is it, Pete?” said Mills. +</p> +<p> +“Tail-Feathers-Coming-Over-the-Hill,” said Pete. +“He was a fine Indian, too—medicine man.” +</p> +<p> +“I thought so,” Mills answered. “I thought I +recognized it. Well, boys, I suppose I’m a Blackfoot +now! You know” (he added this in a lower +tone) “they are grateful to me because in the hard +winter last year I didn’t prosecute one of ’em for +killing a sheep, but got the government to send ’em +some food, so they wouldn’t have to poach. +Tail-Feathers-Coming-Over-the-Hill was a fine old Indian. +I’m proud to have his name.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s some name!” the scouts laughed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> +</p> +<p> +Now that these ceremonies were over, the Indians +fell to dancing again, and the beat of the three drums, +the calls and songs, rose on the air. Seeing the crowd +of tourists about, and filled with fun and good spirits, +the Indians started the squaw dance, the dance in +which the women and even the larger children of +the tribe take part. The three drummers stood in +the middle, pounding their sheepskin drums, and +around them, in a ring, holding hands or linking +elbows, everybody facing inward, the Indians revolved +by a curious little side step with a bend to +the right knee, in time to the TÚM-<em>tum</em>, TÚM-<em>tum</em>, of +the drums. Every moment or two a couple of chiefs +or braves would dart out of the circle, seize some +white woman or girl, and drag her laughing back +into the ring. Then the young squaws began to +run out and grab white men. Two Indian maidens +seized Joe, while Tom got his camera hastily into +action. +</p> +<p> +“Now, look pleasant, Joey!” he laughed. “We’ll +have this picture enlarged for the Scout House—Joe +and the Indian maidens!” +</p> +<p> +The girls placed Joe in the circle, and he began to +revolve with the rest. One of the girls beckoned at +Tom, as much as to say, “Shall we get him?” +</p> +<p> +Joe nodded, and the girl spoke to another squaw +maid on her left, and the two of them left the line +and seized Tom, also, keeping fast hold of his hands +and dragging him with much laughter into the revolving +ring. +</p> +<p> +Before long as many as two hundred people, Indians +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> +and white, old folks and young, men, women +and children, were all revolving in a great circle +about the three drummers, who were beating violently, +singing, shouting. The Indian women began +to sing, also, a strange tune, with only one phrase, +repeated over and over. Of course, the boys could not +understand the words, or even tell for sure sometimes +whether there were any words. But the tune got +into their heads. They could never sing it afterwards +just as the Indians did, for the Indian scale, +the intervals, are different from ours, but they could +come somewhere near it, as they danced around their +camp. +</p> +<p> +The squaw dance lasted until the “pale faces” +began to get tired and drop out of the ring. Then +the Indians went back to their former solo dances, +their other songs, their general jollification and curious +games. But the three drummers, without any rest, +kept right on pounding and shouting and singing, as +if nothing could tire them. They were still at it when +the scouts had to return to their duties at the camp, +and all that evening, too, they kept it up. +</p> +<p> +The next day the steer was to be roasted, in a fire +pit dug and prepared by the Indians themselves, but +Joe did not see that, for he received word that evening +to start out early the following morning with a +party over Swift Current Pass, and down to Lake +McDonald. Tom went to see the beginning of the +ceremony, but the process of roasting an entire steer +isn’t very pretty, nor very tempting, and he didn’t +stay. Beside, he had a big party of hikers to look +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +after, and his own meals to cook now Joe was away. +He returned to Camp Kent, looked longingly at his +coil of Alpine rope, took his axe, and went at the +task of replenishing the wood supply. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span><a name='chXX' id='chXX'></a>CHAPTER XX—The Scouts Start on a Trip Together at Last, To Climb Chief Mountain</h2> +<p> +Joe was gone five days, coming back over Gunsight +and Piegan Pass, the reverse of the route +he had taken on his first trip. But this time, he was +getting so at home in the saddle that he could manage +the packhorses without worrying, could throw a +diamond hitch as well as the next man, and cook for +a crowd without having too much left over, or not +enough prepared—not that there is ever much danger +of having anything left over in the Rocky Mountains! +Everybody eats while there’s food in sight. +But Tom was pretty lonely without him, especially +as the Ranger was away, too, for the first three days. +</p> +<p> +But on the fourth day Big Bertha called Tom up +to the chalet office, and told him something that +made him very happy, though it didn’t seem to please +Big Bertha at all. +</p> +<p> +“Tom,” said he, “I’ve got to fire you.” +</p> +<p> +(This isn’t what made Tom happy. It made his +heart drop into his boots for a second, before he realized +that the man was trying to get a rise out of +him.) +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” the manager went on, “there’s a party of +men from Washington at the hotel. They came over +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span> +Piegan, and they’ve been up to Iceberg Lake to-day, +and now they want to climb Chief Mountain. Somebody’s +told ’em about it, and nothing for it but they +must go up there. There’s no cook for ’em till Joe +gets back, and the Saddle Company is short on +guides anyhow, and hasn’t anybody who knows +Chief Mountain. Mills says he’ll lead the party, if +he can have you and your rope. He won’t go otherwise. +Now, that puts me in a hole, because I’ll +have to go short handed and send one of my boys +down to look after the tepees. But these Washington +guys are big bugs of some sort, and I suppose +we gotter please ’em. So day after to-morrow you +start, if Joe gets back.” +</p> +<p> +“Hooray!” Tom shouted. “Old Joey and I’ll be +on a trip together!” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and what about me? You don’t seem sorry +for me at all,” said Big Bertha. +</p> +<p> +“I’m not,” Tom laughed. “I’ll cut up enough +wood to-morrow for a week, and clean the stove, and +fix everything up. Guess you can worry along.” +</p> +<p> +“You are a heartless, ungrateful creature,” said +Big Bertha, in his funny, high voice. But Tom knew +that he was really glad to give him this chance to +see Chief Mountain. +</p> +<p> +The next day Mills and Tom got together and +made all the arrangements for the trip, for they knew +Joe would not get in till late, over the twenty-two +mile Piegan trail. It was to be a long expedition—probably +a week—and needed considerable planning, +for they were going north, where there were no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span> +chalets, no stores nor camps, and they had to carry +everything. Fortunately, there were only three men +in the party, so Mills, Joe and Tom were the only +guides necessary. But it meant tents, provisions, +blankets, and that meant packhorses—good ones, +too, which were hard to pick, for the season was late, +and the horses were all getting thin and tired. +</p> +<p> +Joe came in late, as they expected, and though he, +too, was tired after the long ride over Piegan, he +gave a whoop of joy at Tom’s announcement. Tom +made him sit down, however, and got the supper +himself. +</p> +<p> +“And you’re going to bed early,” he added. “This +is the real thing ahead of us now—Chief Mountain, +maybe the Belly River Cañon, and Mills says maybe +Cleveland, the highest mountain in the Park, if the +weather is good. He says, though, it’s getting time +for a storm again. Anyhow, we’ll see old Cleveland. +Gee—it’ll be great to be on a rope again!” +</p> +<p> +“You talk as if you’d climbed the Matterhorn all +your life,” Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +The next morning at six o’clock the Ranger and +the two boys were at the hotel, and beginning to +pack the horses. For this trip they took but two +tents, one for the three men, one for themselves. +Enough food was the main requirement. They got +everything, including blankets, on four horses, saving +a fifth horse for the dunnage bags, which the men +speedily brought out. +</p> +<p> +Of course, Joe and Tom looked at these men carefully. +When you are going to be on the trail and in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span> +camp with people for a whole week, you are pretty +interested to know what sort of folks they are, and +whether you are going to like them. One of these +three was young, not over twenty-two or twenty-three, +the son of the oldest man in the party. The +father, whom Mills addressed as Mr. Crimmins, had +gray hair, but he looked hardy and strong, with a +quick, sharp way of talking and quick motions. He +and his friend, Mr. Taylor, a man of about forty, +were both connected with the State Department at +Washington, Mills said. The young man, Robert +Crimmins, was just out of college. +</p> +<p> +“They look good to me,” Joe whispered to Tom. +</p> +<p> +“I ain’t saying a word,” Tom answered. “Not +after Doc Kent. Wait and see.” +</p> +<p> +The fifth horse was now packed, and the expedition +started. +</p> +<p> +But instead of turning up any of the trails toward +the range, Mills led the way straight down the +automobile road, toward the prairie. It seemed +funny to Joe to be setting off on a trip in this direction, +right away from the high places, but the horses +liked it. They liked the comparatively smooth going, +gently down-hill, and swung along at an easy +trot. +</p> +<p> +Down the road they went, mile after mile, until +they emerged from the lower end of the Swift +Current Valley, out into the rolling prairies, with the +whole range behind them. Then, as the road swung +up over a knoll, Mills paused and pointed north. +</p> +<p> +“There’s old Chief,” he said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span> +</p> +<p> +Everybody looked. About twelve miles to the +northwest, thrust out eastward far from the Divide +and with the wall which rose out of the prairie +growing steeper and steeper till the last two thousand +feet were sheer precipice, stood a magnificent +tower of a mountain, shining whitish in the sun as +if it were composed of limestone. At the back, it +seemed connected by a spine with the range behind, +but to the prairie it presented an unbroken front, like +some great Gibraltar of a tower, with the prairie +grass and forest beating like surf at its feet. All +alone it seemed to stand, like a sentinel of the range +behind, a lone outpost. +</p> +<p> +“Is <em>that</em> what we’ve got to climb?” the three men +exclaimed, in one breath. +</p> +<p> +“Well, we won’t take you up the east wall,” Mills +laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, couldn’t we get up it?” Tom cried. +</p> +<p> +Mills looked at him, and grinned again. “About +to-night you won’t feel like climbing <em>anything</em>,” he +said. “Remember, you’re not saddle-broke, the way +Joe is.” +</p> +<p> +They now turned north, away from the motor +road, ate some lunch under the shade of an aspen +and willow thicket, amid the Persian carpet of prairie +wild flowers, and then all the afternoon pushed on +toward the great limestone tower, with the whole +pile of the Rocky Mountain chain beside them for +company. Late in the day they reached a rushing +stream, which came down from a cañon just south +of the big mountain. This was the north fork of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span> +Kennedy Creek, and they turned up it by a trail, the +lowering cliffs of Chief now rearing up almost over +their heads, and went into the mouth of the valley, +and up till the main tower of Chief was east of them, +and they were under the south wall of the spine +which connected the peak with the main range behind. +Here they made camp, in a little meadow +beside the stream, with pine woods all about, and +while Tom and the Ranger pitched the tents, with +Robert Crimmins giving enthusiastic help, Joe built +his fire pit and began to get supper. The two older +men, who were pretty sore after the thirty mile ride, +hobbled about snipping some boughs for their beds. +</p> +<p> +It was a good supper Joe gave them, however, +and the camp was in as delightful a post as a man +could ask, and around the big fire, when the food +had all been eaten, the whole party sat or lay on the +grass, in the fine democracy of the open trail, the +assistant Secretaries of State beside the boy scouts +from Southmead, and the jokes and stories went +around. +</p> +<p> +But Mills “sounded taps,” as he called his bedtime +order, very early, as he planned a six o’clock +getaway in the morning, and that meant getting up +at half-past four. The next day they were to climb +Chief. The Ranger looked long at the stars before +he came into the tent he and the scouts were using. +</p> +<p> +“Boys, a good day to-morrow,” he said, “but it +looks like a storm after that.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, let her rip, after to-morrow,” Tom answered. +“To-morrow, though, I’m goin’ up old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span> +Chief, even if I have to climb with nothing but my +hands, and I feel now’s if I <em>would</em> have to!” +</p> +<p> +“Poor old tenderfoot!” Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Gee, it isn’t my foot,” said Tom, so comically +that Joe and the Ranger roared with mirth, as they +rolled up in their blankets. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span><a name='chXXI' id='chXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXI—The Climb Up the Tower of Chief Mountain, the Indian Relic on the Summit and An Eagle’s Nest</h2> +<p> +How Mills managed to wake up just at the time +he wanted to, without any alarm clock, the +scouts never were able to fathom, but he always +could. He was awake and shaking them at four-thirty +the next day. Joe was up on the instant, and +putting on his outer clothes, but Tom groaned when +he tried to move, and fell back into his blankets with +an “Ouch!” +</p> +<p> +“Your sick friend strikes me as better than you +are,” Mills taunted him. +</p> +<p> +“Why wouldn’t he be? He’s been weeks in the +saddle now,” Tom retorted, stung into sitting up. +“I’ll be all right by to-morrow—you see if I’m not.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m sorry you’re too lame to climb Chief +to-day,” Mills said, with a wink at Joe. +</p> +<p> +That brought Tom out of his blankets entirely, +and on to his feet. “Too lame, your grandmother!” +he cried. “I’d like to see you get my rope without +me!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it’s been climbed without a rope, many a +time,” Mills laughed. +</p> +<p> +Tom was up now, and thoroughly awake, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258'></a>258</span> +began to see the joke. He grinned rather sheepishly, +and went out of the tent with his towel. +Meanwhile, Joe beat reveille on a frying-pan, and lit +his fire. +</p> +<p> +By six o’clock breakfast was eaten, the horses +packed again, and the party on its way. They went +up the trail but a short distance, and then turned +sharp to the north, and began at once to climb the +long spine which connects Chief Mountain with the +main range to the west. It was a little over a mile +to the summit of this spine, rising from 6,000 feet to +7,400. A horse does not trot up such a grade, but +neither does he have to climb like a goat. In an +hour, they were at the summit, and could look at +last not only eastward, along the ridge, to the limestone +tower of Chief which was their goal, but down +the slope on the north side to the valley of the Belly +River, and across it to the eastern shoulders of +Cleveland, the highest mountain in the Park, 10,438 +feet. +</p> +<p> +Here, in the open, grassy ridges at timber-line, the +horses were unsaddled and unpacked, so if they lay +down to roll, they could do no damage, and the +party, with Tom’s rope and the cameras, set out +along the ridge due east toward the towering cliff of +Chief, which looked like a huge castle battlement, or +watch-tower. It was not over a two-mile walk to +the shale pile at the base of the summit precipice, +by an easy grade, though the going was sometimes +rough. The topographical map Joe carried showed +that they rose from 7,400 feet to over 8,000, at the +top of the shale pile, and as the mountain is 9,056 +feet high, that left about a thousand feet of cliff for +the final ascent. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i007' id='i007'></a> +<img src="images/illus-258.jpg" alt="Chief Mt.—the Sentinel of the Prairies" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Chief Mt.—the Sentinel of the Prairies</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259'></a>259</span></div> +<p> +At the top of the shale they paused, while Mills +and Tom consulted. This great limestone rock was +not such a hard proposition as parts of the Iceberg +Lake cliff, and after a careful survey of the ground, +they decided the best way to handle six people on +the rope was to send a leader up with the end, to +anchor where he could find strong anchorage, and +then let the rest use it as a rail, rather than fastening +it around each person’s waist. +</p> +<p> +Tom went in number one position, with the Ranger +as number two, and Joe was stationed at the bottom, +to brace and throw a loop around anybody who +might, by chance, slip. In many places, Mills played +Tom out nearly the whole length of the rope, where +the incline was sufficiently off the perpendicular, and +the rest had almost a hundred feet of rope rail to +climb by. In only a few places was there real vertical +climbing, and those as the summit was neared. +Before noon they were all over the last pitch, on the +summit. +</p> +<p> +Robert Crimmins ran to the outer edge of this +summit at once, and looked out over the vast green +prairie, stretching mile on endless mile to the east, +like waves of the sea, and shouted. +</p> +<p> +“Father, come here!” he called. “Say, this is +just like riding on the bowsprit of a tremendous +ship!” +</p> +<p> +Everybody hurried over, to feel the same sensation, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span> +all except Joe. “I tell you what it feels like to +me,” he said. “It feels as if I was on the front edge +of the earth crust when it rode up and over the +other edge. This must be the very end of the overthrust.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s so,” Mr. Crimmins agreed. “I’ve been +reading up on this geological formation. This cliff +under us—it must be three thousand feet down to +the shale slide—was the front edge of the overthrust. +You can see that. The Belly River has carved away +one side, Kennedy Creek the other, but this old +lump of limestone has resisted all the bombardments +of frost and water, glacier and storm, and the weather +has carved it into a watch-tower of the prairies, an +outpost sentinel of the Great Divide.” +</p> +<p> +[“Some speech!” Tom whispered to Joe.] +</p> +<p> +But Joe did not laugh. He felt exactly what +Mr. Crimmins meant, and it was very thrilling. It +seemed as if he could see exactly what happened +myriads of years ago when the earth cracked, and +one edge of the great crust was shoved forward on +to the prairie, and as if he could see what had +happened since, to carve the crust into peaks and +valleys. +</p> +<p> +Mills, meanwhile, had been walking about. Now +he called to them, and they all went over where he +stood, and saw him pointing to the bleached skull of +a large animal on the ground. +</p> +<p> +“What’s that?” the men asked. +</p> +<p> +“Buffalo,” he answered. +</p> +<p> +“How on earth did it get up here?” said Mr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261'></a>261</span> +Crimmins. “There are only three things, without +wings, which can climb this cliff, surely,—goats, +mountain sheep, and men. You needn’t try to tell +me a buffalo could climb up here!” +</p> +<p> +“Shan’t try,” the Ranger answered. “A Blackfoot +brought that up.” +</p> +<p> +“What for?” Joe asked. +</p> +<p> +“To use for a pillow while he was getting his +medicine. You know, when an Indian boy gets +about the age of you scouts, he has to take a sweat +bath (made by putting hot stones in a closed lodge +and pouring water on ’em) to purify himself, and +then he goes off to some wild, lonely place and just +waits there, naked, without any food, till he has a +vision. This vision tells him what his special ‘medicine’ +is to be, which will bring him good luck. Old +Yellow Wolf told me we’d find the skull up here. +He knew the brave that brought it up for a pillow. +He said the young Indian stayed four days on the +summit before he got his ‘medicine.’” +</p> +<p> +“Say, if I stayed up here four days, naked, I’d +need some medicine when I got down!” young +Crimmins laughed. “Let’s take the skull for a +souvenir.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no!” Joe cried, forgetting that he was only +a cook and guide for the party. “That would be—be +desecration! Let it stay here, where the Indian +left it!” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Crimmins looked at him sharply but kindly. +“Joe is right,” he said. “Let it stay here as a +record of a race too fast vanishing. I like to think +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262'></a>262</span> +of that naked Indian boy, all alone, climbing this +great rock tower and for four whole days sitting up +here far above the world, waiting for a vision from +his gods. You wouldn’t catch one of our American +boys doing anything like that. Yet we think we are +vastly superior to the Indians!” +</p> +<p> +“But his vision, after all, probably came because +he was dizzy for lack of food, and it was a superstition +that it could furnish him a ‘medicine’ to bring +good luck,” Mr. Taylor said. +</p> +<p> +“Superstition or not,” the other replied, “it represented +the instinct to go out alone, and meditate on +solemn things. Didn’t it, Joe?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir!” Joe answered, his own heart full of +enthusiasm for this picture of the lone, naked Indian +on top of the watch-tower of the prairies. +</p> +<p> +But Tom and Robert Crimmins, who had less +imagination, had wandered away to an edge of the +cliff, to toss stones over into the depths below, and +suddenly the rest heard them shouting, and ran to +the edge. +</p> +<p> +One of the stones they had thrown over had +landed on a ledge some seventy-five feet below, and +scared off a golden eagle, which was now sailing +away from the cliff face with tremendous beats of +his huge wings, each beat taking him up, it seemed, +fifty feet, till soon he was soaring in circles out over +the prairie, and sweeping back, with wings at rest, +far overhead, evidently alarmed but intent on finding +out what had disturbed him. +</p> +<p> +Crawling to the edge, and looking over, the party +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span> +could see a big nest on the ledge below, with white +things in it, and beside it, like bones. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to have a photograph of that!” Tom +cried. “Gee, I wish there were some little eagles in +it!” +</p> +<p> +“You might be sorry if there were,” Mills answered +briefly, as Tom fastened the rope under his +arms. “I’m not even sure of the bird now the +young are out. Here, take my revolver, and if it +comes at you, let him have it.” +</p> +<p> +Tom put his camera in one pocket, the automatic +in the other, and the men above lowered him over +the edge, where he swung almost free, and had to +kick the cliffside with his feet to keep himself from +spinning and keep his face outward. The eagle still +circled above, now and then swooping nearer till they +could hear the wing beats, but it was evidently afraid +to attack. Tom finally reached the ledge, landing, in +fact, with both feet in the nest. It was a huge affair +of sticks, lined with dry prairie grass, almost as high +as his shoulders, and four feet across. He climbed +out, watching the eagle with one eye, and took a +couple of snapshots of it, then picked up some of +the bones and examined them, grasped the rope just +above his face, to ease the strain under his arms, and +gave the signal to those above. +</p> +<p> +As he began to rise from the nest, the eagle +swooped ever nearer, now lower than the men on +the summit, so they could see its vast wing spread, +its brown back and rusty colored head and neck. +</p> +<p> +Tom let go of the rope with his hands, and got the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264'></a>264</span> +pistol out of his pocket. To tell the truth, he was +beginning to get uncomfortable. As the eagle +swooped within fifty feet of him, and he could see its +glinting eyes, he lifted the gun and fired. Naturally, +you cannot shoot a rapidly moving object with a +pistol, while you yourself are dangling and spinning +on the end of a rope, with any great precision of +aim. He did not hit the bird, but he frightened it. +With an incredibly quick change of tack, it tilted up +on one wing, soared outward and upward, two hundred +feet overhead, and far out from the cliff. The +men hauled Tom back over the edge. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I got my picture!” Tom exclaimed. +“Say, but that’s a whale of a nest! And side of it +is a little skeleton, either of a kid or a baby lamb, +and lots of small bones like rabbits and birds, and a +fresh, half eaten ground squirrel. That’s what the +old eagle was eating when we disturbed him, I guess. +Gee, it’s a regular bone yard down there. Don’t +smell very good, either. I don’t think I care for +eagles much.” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t care for that one, when he was coming +at you!” Joe said, his face still white. +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t myself,” Tom admitted. “Wish I’d had +the nerve to photograph the old birdie instead of +shooting at him.” +</p> +<p> +“They don’t like to have their pictures taken,” +said Mills, with a short laugh. +</p> +<p> +After this excitement, the descent of the mountain +began. Half-way down, Joe left the rope, at a wide +ledge, and went some distance along it, to one side, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265'></a>265</span> +to get a photograph of the whole party on the cliffside. +After he had snapped it, he kept on along the +ledge a way, just to see where it went to. After a +hundred feet, it turned a sharp corner, and as Joe +rounded this turn, he suddenly was face to face with +a big old ram! He was quite as astonished as the +sheep, but he instinctively pointed his camera and +snapped the bulb, just as the ram lowered its head +as if to butt. +</p> +<p> +Joe flattened himself against the wall, not wishing +to be knocked off fifty feet to the slope below. But +the sheep decided not to butt. Instead, he turned +tail, dashed a few feet back on the ledge, and went +over head first. Joe ran to the spot in time to see +him land on a little shelf twenty feet lower down, +bounce off that to a ledge still lower, and then trot +around an easy slope and disappear from sight. +Not having had time to roll his film, he couldn’t +take another picture. But he returned to the party +in triumph. Tom might have a picture of an eagle’s +nest, but now he had one of a live bighorn! The +fact that his camera was focused for a hundred feet, +as he had just taken the party on the rope when he +met the sheep, and so his close-up of the old ram +would be somewhat blurry, did not occur to him till +long after, when the film was developed. +</p> +<p> +After a quick lunch, mainly of Charlie Chaplin +sandwiches, the horses were packed again, and they +descended the north slope of the ridge, by an easy +grade, getting rapidly into timber, and after five +miles or so reached the valley of the Belly River, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266'></a>266</span> +turned up that, and presently made camp at the +mouth of the Glenns Lakes, two long, narrow, +green lakes reaching in toward the Divide, with the +towering walls of Cleveland, which they had seen +clearly from Chief, rising right out of these lakes, +but now, they saw to their sorrow, going up into +clouds. +</p> +<p> +“I thought so,” Mills said. “Bad weather. It +don’t look to me as if we could tackle Cleveland to-morrow. +I wanted to try him from this side, too—go +up on that long shoulder that comes down south, +and then east, toward us. We could get up on that +and make a base camp. Well, we’ll camp here to-night, +and if he’s still under to-morrow, we can go +over Ahern Pass to Flat Top, and then try him from +the west side. That’s the side they usually go up, +anyhow.” +</p> +<p> +So they pitched their tents in a meadow by the +Belly River, with the clouds gradually shredding out +overhead till they finally wrapped the tower of Chief, +and hid it from sight, and the cold grew uncomfortable, +so that everybody save Joe set about chopping +a big supply of wood. Night came early under +the cloud mantle, and with no glimpse of the stars, +or the tops of those great walls towering up overhead, +it was a lonely spot. As Joe was dropping to +sleep he heard a coyote barking somewhere out near +the horses, a weird, sad sound, like the coughing +laugh of an idiot. He shivered at the sound still +more, and tried to roll his blanket tighter. +</p> +<p> +“But you’ve got to get used to it, old scout, if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267'></a>267</span> +you are going to be a forest ranger,” he told himself. +</p> +<p> +Certainly it did not trouble Mills, who was already +sound asleep. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268'></a>268</span><a name='chXXII' id='chXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXII—A Blizzard on Flat Top—The Camp is Christened “Valley Forge”</h2> +<p> +The next day the mountains were still under. It +wasn’t raining, but the clouds were a dark, gun +metal color, and seemed to rest like heavy smoke on +the rocks overhead. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing doing,” said Mills. “They may be +over for two days yet, and it will surely rain. We’ll +keep the trail over Ahern Pass, and make Flat Top +to-day. All out!” +</p> +<p> +And it was a strange day that followed. The trail +was none too good, with much fallen timber to drive +the packhorses around for the first two or three +miles, and it very soon got up into a wild, desolate, +narrow cañon under the southern wall of Mount +Merritt, with the water of Lake Elizabeth beside the +path, looking in this gray light under the lowering +clouds a sort of dead, chalky green. Beyond Lake +Elizabeth the cañon grew steeper and narrower, the +cliffs of Mount Merritt went sheer up into the clouds, +and on the other side of the valley rose the equally +steep walls that were the reverse side of the Iceberg +Lake cliffs Tom had scaled. But the tops both of +Merritt and these cliffs were hidden in cloud, that +swirled and raised and lowered as the upper wind +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269'></a>269</span> +currents hit it. When they reached Lake Helen, at +the head of the cañon, where the trail began to +switchback up the wall of the Divide, they could +see, just under the clouds, poised, it seemed, almost +over their heads, no less than four glaciers, one of +them apparently hanging on a shelf and ready to +fall off at any moment. In fact, a huge cake as big +as a house did fall off, and crashed down with a great +roar to the rocks below, even as they watched. +</p> +<p> +“The mountain gnomes are bombarding us!” +Mr. Crimmins laughed. +</p> +<p> +They went steadily and steeply up, on the switchbacks, +and reached the top of the Divide at noon. +But half an hour before they got to the Divide they +were in the clouds, in a thick, damp, chilling fog, +that was not rain and yet covered their clothes with +drops of moisture, made their hands wet and cold, +and of course obscured every vestige of a view. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said the Ranger, “here we are on the +backbone of the world. Over there is Heaven’s +Peak. Just to the left, only a mile away, Tom, is +the top of the Iceberg Lake head wall. If it was +clear, you could take Joe over and show him where +you climbed. But I guess as it is we’ll get down as +fast as we can, and not even wait for lunch.” +</p> +<p> +“Anything to get out of this,” the men said, +blowing on their wet, numb fingers. +</p> +<p> +So they dropped down on the west side of the +Divide, getting out of the cloud below timber-line, +and stopped while Joe made hot coffee. Then they +pushed on down still farther, picked up a better trail +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span> +in the deep woods in a cañon beside a stream—Mineral +Creek Cañon; and turning sharp north, +began slowly and gradually to climb again. It was +the kind of a day when nobody does much talking, +and even the horses seemed to plug dejectedly +along. After two or three miles, however, they +began to go up more rapidly, out of deep timber, +into a region of meadows and low balsams. Joe +was the first to smell the balsams, and sniffed +eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to have a real bed to-night,” he called +to Mills, “if you don’t look. I know it’s against the +rules to cut bough beds in the Park.” +</p> +<p> +“I won’t look, if you won’t tell,” Mills called back. +“We have to make that rule to protect the trees, but +way up here in the wilds Uncle Sam won’t miss a +few twigs, I guess.” +</p> +<p> +They were now nearly under the clouds again. +To their right a steep débris pile rose, and ended in +a jagged cliff wall, which disappeared in the vapor. +To the left was a wooded slope, and ahead the trail +climbed sharply to a ridge which could barely be +seen under the clouds. +</p> +<p> +“We’re almost at the north end of Flat Top +Mountain,” the Ranger said. “That cliff to the +right is the Divide, and dead ahead that ridge you +see is the Divide turning sharp left and running +across to the western range. From here on into +Canada the western range is the watershed. We +could climb to the top of that ridge—only half a +mile, and camp on the Divide, if you want to.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span> +</p> +<p> +“And spend the night in the cloud? Excuse +me!” Mr. Crimmins said. “This is bad enough.” +</p> +<p> +“All right—all off,” the Ranger answered. +</p> +<p> +He called to Joe and Tom, and the three of them +pitched the two tents in a sheltered spot, in the +centre of a grove of balsams about twenty feet tall. +</p> +<p> +“And peg ’em down hard,” he said. “Anything +may come out of those clouds to-night. Now, +Tom, get a good big supply of wood, and stack it +up dry, under a pack cover, while I turn out the +horses.” +</p> +<p> +While Joe was getting supper, the three tourists +gathered balsam boughs for beds, following Mills’ +orders to take only a few twigs from any one tree. +</p> +<p> +“It’s against the rules,” he said, “but we may +need to sleep as warm as we can to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“I believe you,” Robert Crimmins replied, blowing +on his numb fingers. +</p> +<p> +Tom, meanwhile, combed the region all around +for dead wood. The supply was none too large, for +they were perilously close to timber-line; and under +the cloud darkness was coming on early, to make +the job harder. But he finally found a large dead +tree, down in a sheltered hollow by the stream, and +got four or five good logs out of that, and a lot of +smaller stuff. The two tents were pitched facing +each other, with a camp-fire and Joe’s fire pit between, +and with the surrounding evergreens for a +windbreak and the tent flaps open to catch the heat, +they were pretty comfortable that evening, though +every one wore his sweater, and Joe and Tom, who +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272'></a>272</span> +had brought their mackinaws, were glad enough to +put them on, too. +</p> +<p> +Nobody undressed that night at all, except to take +off his boots and put on an extra pair of socks instead. +The wind was rising steadily, the tents shook, +the evergreens over them sighed and whistled, and +Joe lay awake for the first time since he had been in +the Park, with a curious feeling that something was +going to happen. +</p> +<p> +He got to sleep at last, but he woke up presently—it +seemed to him that he woke up immediately—and +peering through the tent flap saw no sign of a +fire. At least, he thought, the embers ought still to +be glowing. He slipped out of his blankets as softly +as he could, climbed over Mills, who was sleeping +nearest the entrance, and started to unbuckle the +flap. As he did so, a gust of wind hit the tent, half +lifting it off its pole, and blew the flap wildly in. As +it blew in, something soft and cold and stinging hit +Joe’s face. Snow! He stuck out his head for an +instant, and all he could see was a kind of swirling, +waving, hissing white darkness. It was bitter cold, +too, and the fire was out. Dimly he could see the +outline of the other tent, and the roof of it was white +with drift. No use trying to build up the fire in +that! He fought the wind to close the flap again. +</p> +<p> +But the swirl of the snow in his face had waked +the Ranger. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter?” he said. +</p> +<p> +“A blizzard,” Joe replied, as another gust of wind +strained the canvas and rattled the guy ropes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273'></a>273</span> +</p> +<p> +“I thought something would come out of this,” +said Mills. “Hang it, we ought to have camped +lower down. I’d rather be drowned than frozen.” +</p> +<p> +Tom woke up now, and they lighted the camp +lantern, to peep out into the night. +</p> +<p> +A voice, half drowned in the roar of the gale, came +across from the other tent. +</p> +<p> +“Say,” it called, “what had we better do?” +</p> +<p> +“Keep in your blankets and hang onto your tent!” +Mills shouted back. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder if he thinks we can call a taxi and drive +to a hotel!” he added in a normal tone, that couldn’t +have been heard two feet beyond the tent flap. +</p> +<p> +Nobody slept any more in either tent that night. +They were too cold, and too busy bailing out snow +that drifted under the tent walls, or trying to peg +down the walls or stop up the gaps with the balsam +beds. Finally, toward morning, there came a perfect +hurricane of wind. The tent the scouts were in +swayed, tugged, seemed about to leave its moorings, +and in the midst of the gust the occupants heard a +snapping sound outside, and a smothered yell. +</p> +<p> +Mills sprang out into the storm, and a moment +later came back with Robert and the two men, all +wrapped in their blankets, and powdered white by +the brief crossing. +</p> +<p> +Their tent pole had snapped, and the tent had +come down on top of them! There was no chance +of getting it up again then, so the six people all huddled +in the one tent, and waited for daylight. +</p> +<p> +“Anyhow, the more we are, the warmer we can +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274'></a>274</span> +keep,” said Robert, who was rather enjoying the adventure. +“Go on, Joe, keep your knee in my back, +I like it! It’s as good as a hot water bottle.” +</p> +<p> +The storm began to abate presently, and as the +light brightened outside, Mills, peering out, reported +that the snow had stopped falling. With the diminution +of the wind, too, the cold lessened, and the +noise, and nearly everybody, in spite of the cramped +quarters, fell into a troubled, rather restless sleep. +</p> +<p> +What woke Joe up was the bright daylight +hitting him in the eye through a crack in the tent +flap. +</p> +<p> +He extricated himself from between Robert and +Mr. Taylor, and pushed his way out. It was a transformed, +a wonderful, a beautiful world he looked on! +Evidently the sun was up over the prairie, for far +down Mineral Creek Cañon he could see the top of +Cannon Mountain, snow covered, pink and rosy with +the light, and Heaven’s Peak, a little nearer, was like +a great pyramid of gleaming rose crystal. On the +ground about him, half covering his fire pit, was almost +a foot of snow, which hung on the balsams, +was drifted over the fallen tent, covered the rocks, +and through which, here and there, rose the stems +of wild flowers, their blossoms nodding above the +white carpet! +</p> +<p> +He gave a shout. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t miss this!” he cried. “Gee, it’s worth a +lost night’s sleep, and then some!” +</p> +<p> +Sleepy, stiff forms emerged from the tent behind +him, and gazed at the sunrise over a world that was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span> +white with winter, and yet was summer. Everybody +exclaimed with delight—except the Ranger. +</p> +<p> +“This will make Cleveland hopeless,” was all he +said, as he began to pull the fallen tent up out of its +drift. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m going to name this old camp Valley +Forge,” Robert Crimmins laughed, as he stamped +his feet and blew on his fingers, before picking a wild +flower for his buttonhole! +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276'></a>276</span><a name='chXXIII' id='chXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXIII—Up To Chaney Glacier and the Discovery of a Three Thousand Foot Precipice</h2> +<p> +It was a hard job digging the camp out of the +snow, and only the fact that Tom had covered the +wood and weighted down the canvas to hold it on +gave them dry fuel to cook with. They had no +snow shovels, using frying-pans and dippers to clear +away the drifts from the fire pit and their packs. +</p> +<p> +“Valley Forge is the right name,” Mr. Crimmins +laughed as he stamped his feet and blew on his fingers, +as Robert had done. +</p> +<p> +But the sun was now up, the air was rapidly warming, +and while Joe got the breakfast, Mills and Tom +waded out through the snow in search of the horses. +They had to go a long way, too, for the wise beasts +had simply wandered down the trail into the woods, +and kept on descending until they had got below the +snow line into rain, where the grass was not covered +and they could feed. It was almost two hours later +that the Ranger and Tom came driving them back, +cross, hungry, and with boots soaked by the snow +and clothes soaked by the wet bushes. +</p> +<p> +So they got a late start that morning. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll go up the Little Kootenai Cañon,” said +Mills, “as far as the old cabin of Death-on-the-trail +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277'></a>277</span> +Reynolds, and see how the land lies for a try at the +west wall of Cleveland the next day. If it isn’t promising, +we can make an afternoon trip up to Waterton +Lake, and then come back the next day. If it does +look like a try at the big mountain, we can push up +the side a way, and make a base camp.” +</p> +<p> +So they mounted, and pushed up through the soft, +rapidly melting snow to the top of the ridge where +the Divide crosses from the eastern to the western +range, and after a short trip through the snow-filled, +open meadows of Flat Top, with the little pines and +balsams looking like Christmas cards, they began to +drop down a more than two-thousand foot slope into +the cañon of the Little Kootenai River, which flows +due north, with Cleveland on the right, and Kootenai +and Citadel Peaks on the left. Especially Citadel +Peak was superb in its snow mantle, a great, glistening +white fortress towering thousands of feet up from +the cañon. +</p> +<p> +They reached the old cabin of Death-on-the-trail +Reynolds at one o’clock, and found there the ranger +for that district. +</p> +<p> +“How about Cleveland?” Mills asked. +</p> +<p> +“Getting sort of tired of life?” the other ranger +inquired. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what I thought,” Mills replied. “Any +chance to-morrow?” +</p> +<p> +“Not much. She’ll melt on the lower slopes to-day, +but the peak’ll not begin cataracting snowslides +till to-morrow morning, about ten A.M. Day after +you might make it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span> +</p> +<p> +“No use—we can’t wait that long,” said Mr. Crimmins. +“I’m sorry, but even the State Department +can’t control nature.” +</p> +<p> +So, after lunch in the cabin, they left the packhorses +behind, and free to travel at a good gait, +trotted down the trail to Waterton Lake, a long, +narrow, beautiful sheet of green water which stretched +away north ten miles, into Canada, and being warm +with the ride the two scouts and Robert had a swim—or, +at least, they went into the water. They came +out before they had swum far, their bodies stung red +as boiled lobsters by the cold. +</p> +<p> +“This Park reminds me of the poem,” Robert said, +</p> +<p> + “‘Water, water everywhere, but not a place to swim.’”<br /> +</p> +<p> +Back at the Ranger’s cabin, they had a big, leisurely +supper, with the Ranger as their guest, and +after supper he told them tales of Death-on-the-trail +Reynolds, an old mining prospector, who had first +built the cabin, and when the Park became national +property was made a ranger, and true to his name +died in the saddle on one of the trails he had followed +so long. This old trail from Waterton Lake south +over Flat Top and down Mineral Creek to McDonald +Creek, and so to Lake McDonald, was a regular +smuggler’s route in the old days, the Ranger said, +and many a horse had been driven down it in the +dark, before the American rangers on one end and +the Canadian Northwestern mounted police on the +other put a stop to that sort of thing. +</p> +<p> +That night they slept in the cabin, and early the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279'></a>279</span> +next day went back in their tracks—the first time +they had repeated a trail—reaching “Valley Forge” +camp at noon. The snow was about all melted here +now, and when Mills pointed up the cliffs to the east, +and said Chaney Glacier lay just on the other side, +it was voted to camp here once more, and spend the +afternoon on the glacier, and the peak above. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve never been up that peak,” Mills said, “but +I have a hunch there’d be some view up there.” +</p> +<p> +Lunch was eaten quickly, Tom got out his rope, +and they started. +</p> +<p> +It was an easy climb, and could have been made +without the rope, probably, though the rope was a +great help in making speed. After a long grade up +a shale slide, and across a snow-field, they reached +the base of a rough, jagged cliff, and by picking out +upward slanting ledges on this cliff, Tom led the +way rapidly upward, Mills keeping the rear of the +rope anchored, while Tom anchored the upper end, +thus making a rope railing on the outer edge of each +ledge. In less than an hour they reached the spine +of the Divide, at a col between two higher peaks. +This spine was a knife blade, not over ten feet wide, +and directly on the east side, with its upper edge so +close you could step off on to it, lay Chaney Glacier, +a vast field of snow now, with little ice showing, a +mile in extent, and sloping downward till the lower +end disappeared over the rim of a precipice. Out +beyond this precipice, they saw the Belly River +Cañon, looking straight down it, over the green +waters of Glenns Lakes, to the spot where they had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280'></a>280</span> +camped, and beyond that to the green ocean of the +prairies. From here, too, they got a superb view of +Cleveland, rearing up, still snow covered, a great +pyramid of white. +</p> +<p> +“Want to go out on the glacier?” the Ranger +asked Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I don’t mind,” Joe laughed. “The rope’s +strong.” +</p> +<p> +Every one did want to go out on the glacier, so +Mills roped them all, keeping last place himself, and +they ventured out over the apparently unbroken +field of snow. But this snow was light and rapidly +melting, and they had not gone far before Tom, in +the lead, with a sounding staff he had cut before +they left camp, detected a frail snow bridge and sent +it crumbling down into the crevasse, disclosing the +green ice walls. One look down this well into the +ice decided the party not to venture far over the +treacherous field, and they returned to the firm rocks +of the Divide, and climbed on up another eight hundred +feet to the top of the peak to the south. +</p> +<p> +The summit of this peak was only about the size +of a big table, and to the east it fell away absolutely +sheer for three thousand feet to a tiny lake far below, +out of which, on the opposite side, shot up the cliff +wall of Merritt. The wind was strong up here, and +the peak so small that all six lay on their stomachs +to peer over the precipice. +</p> +<p> +“Say, that’s a hole in the earth!” Mr. Crimmins +exclaimed. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i008' id='i008'></a> +<img src="images/illus-280.jpg" alt="Mt. Cleveland and Glenns Lakes" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Mt. Cleveland and Glenns Lakes</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281'></a>281</span></div> +<p> +Robert spit over the edge. “I never spit three +thousand feet before,” he said. “Want to climb up +that cliff with your rope, Tom?” +</p> +<p> +Tom shook his head. “It couldn’t be done, not +even by a goat,” he said, wisely. +</p> +<p> +“As a matter of fact, you’re right,” Mills laughed. +“I never even knew that cliff was here, either. This +Park hasn’t been more’n half explored yet.” +</p> +<p> +From almost the very top of this peak, a long, +very steep shale slope led to the “Valley Forge” +meadow, and down this they descended, by the aid +of the rope, sending showers of stones ahead, so that +the leader was in constant danger, and wearing +down the spikes and soles of their boots rapidly. +They camped that night in the old spot, using their +former fire pit, but there was no storm, and the next +day they had an uneventful passage back down +Mineral Creek, up to Swift Current by the trail Joe +had first climbed in the rain, and so on back to +Many Glacier—a long trip of twenty-four miles, but +to Joe, who by this was as hard as nails, not very +tiresome. At Many Glacier the boys bid the two +men and Robert good-bye, and as darkness was +gathering, once more cooked their supper in Camp +Kent, which by now was like home to them. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Tom, “that was some trip, old wifey—let’s +see, we were six days out, and we didn’t meet a +soul after we left the road till we got back to Granite +Park, except the ranger up under Cleveland. The +real wilderness stuff, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“You bet!” said Joe. “And eighteen dollars +more for me and ma.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282'></a>282</span> +</p> +<p> +“You’re getting terribly practical,” Tom laughed. +</p> +<p> +“I’m getting self-supporting,” Joe replied. “No +more grafting off you.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re getting <em>well</em>,” Tom cried. “That’s the +real thing. Gee, you’re harder’n I am now! You +never seem to get tired.” +</p> +<p> +“Bet I can hit the little old cot, though,” Joe +laughed, as he began to make up the beds in the +tent. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span><a name='chXXIV' id='chXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXIV—The Boys Prepare for Winter in the Park, and Learn Why the Timber-Line Trees Are Only Three Feet Tall</h2> +<p> +It was now September, and already a rain in the +valleys meant fresh snow on the peaks and high +passes. The hotel was still full, however, and Tom +was busy at the tepees, while Joe had steady work +as a camp cook, once on a fishing trip, when, in +three days, he cooked so many trout he said he +should be ashamed ever to look a fish in the face +again, and sick if he ate one. +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t think it was possible to get fed up on +trout,” he declared. +</p> +<p> +“Wait till next April, and you’ll be out whipping +up Roaring Brook, all right, all right,” Tom +laughed. +</p> +<p> +Of course school had begun back in Southmead, +but Tom did not feel like quitting his job before the +season was over, and, besides, after long talks together, +and consultations with the Ranger, and letters +home to their parents and Mr. Rogers, the boys had +decided to stay on with Mills, in his cabin (paying +for their own food, of course, which would be a very +small item), until Christmas. It would mean that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span> +they’d lose the whole school term instead of a +month, but, in return, Joe would have that much +more outdoor life, they could do a lot of reading +evenings, and, above all, they could learn from Mills +some of the duties of a forest ranger in winter, and +learn how to handle themselves in the mountains +and big woods after all trails were closed, all tourists +departed, and the Park had gone back to its primitive +wildness. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Rogers agreed with them, and evidently persuaded +their parents. “After all,” he wrote, “you’ll +really be taking a term in practical field forestry, and +Joe can never hope to get a position as a forester if +he hasn’t fully recovered his health. The government +won’t take a sick man on the job. Learn all +you can, especially how to take care of yourselves.” +</p> +<p> +So the boys sent home for their very warmest +winter clothes, mittens, pull down hats, ski boots +and skis and some school books and stories to read +evenings. Mills said he could get them real Indian +snow-shoes in the Park, and elk skin sleeping-bags. +He was even more delighted at the prospect of having +them than they were at staying. It meant he +would have company till nearly Christmas, and the +scouts knew how lonely he usually was in the winter, +because that was one thing he had never talked +about. +</p> +<p> +The tepee camp closed about mid-September, +when it got too cold for many hikers to come over +the high passes, and the next two weeks Tom +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285'></a>285</span> +worked as a regular guide, with a license badge +from the Park superintendent. Joe also had a +couple of jobs with camping parties, but he had had +his badge from the start. All the hotels and chalets +closed on October first, and then the boys moved +into the Ranger’s cabin. +</p> +<p> +They were glad to move, too. Already winter +had begun to come, up on the Divide. The snow +that fell did not melt, and the line of it was creeping +down the bare, rocky slopes of Gould. The nights +were cold, and water froze in a kettle, and ice formed +on the edge of the lake on a still night. Before the +last bus had departed, all three made a trip out to +Glacier Park station and laid in supplies for the +winter. +</p> +<p> +“The next trip we make may be on snow-shoes,” +the Ranger said. “That’s fifty miles afoot, packing +your sleeping-bag on your back.” +</p> +<p> +The horses presently were sent down to the +prairie to winter, and Joe got some of the hens from +the hotel, which otherwise would have been killed +or taken away, and installed them in the stable. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll have fresh eggs for a while, anyhow,” he +declared. +</p> +<p> +“What you going to feed ’em with?” the Ranger +asked. +</p> +<p> +“I got two barrels of feed,” said Joe, “and our +table scraps. When the feed gives out, we’ll live on +fricasseed chicken. Anyhow, I’ll keep one good one +alive till Thanksgiving, and we’ll have some fresh +meat that day.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span> +</p> +<p> +In the weeks that followed, Tom and Joe lived a +hardy, active life afoot, sometimes going with the +Ranger up the high trails to inspect where the early +snows first slid, so that he could get a line on the +spots in which the most danger to the trails lay. +</p> +<p> +“My idea is,” he said, “that in some places where +we have trouble, making us a lot of work in the +spring, the government could plant Arctic willow or +limber pines, to hold the snow from sliding, and +save a lot of money. I’m going to study snowslides +this winter, and make a report.” +</p> +<p> +Sometimes, too, the scouts went hunting with him, +not for sheep or goats or deer, of course, but for the +animals which prey on the sheep, goats, deer, etc. +The worst pest, perhaps, is the coyote, which is a +sort of cowardly fox-wolf, and as the snow gradually +pushed down the slopes and drove many animals +with it, the coyotes grew more numerous around the +cabin, so the boys could hear them barking at night. +Now all the tourists were gone, Mills gave each boy +a gun, making them his assistants, and especially on +moonlight nights, when they heard the coyotes barking, +they would go out where some bait had been +placed and shoot two or three. +</p> +<p> +“Every one you bag saves the life of a dozen +ptarmigan hens, and probably a lot of lambs and +fawns,” said Mills. +</p> +<p> +It wasn’t long before the side of the barn was covered +with coyote skins. +</p> +<p> +“But what you really want is a lion’s skin,” said +Mills. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287'></a>287</span> +</p> +<p> +“What <em>I</em> want is a silver tip skin,” said Tom. “I +want a coat like yours.” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing doing,” Mills laughed. “Mr. Silver Tip +is protected now.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, bring on your lion!” Spider replied. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll get one yet,” Mills answered. +</p> +<p> +Until the snow got well down toward the valleys, +Tom and Joe used to go off for a day at a time, also, +with the rope, climbing up cliffs for practice and still +oftener, with their cameras, seeking out the upland +slopes where the wind kept the snow blown off, and +lying in wait for sheep, to photograph them. The +sheep, they found, came to such places to feed. But +it was cold work waiting, so they finally hit on the +idea of packing up their sleeping-bags on their backs, +and lying in them, under the shelter of some rock or +timber-line pine. In this way, they got several photographs +at close range. +</p> +<p> +They got something else, too; they got a real idea +of why the trees at timber-line are only a few feet +high. It was mid-November when they had gone +up a shoulder of Mount Wilbur, early in the morning, +to a bare upland pasture where they believed +that sheep would come to feed. The sun was shining +when they left, and there was no snow to speak +of down in the valley. But they took snow-shoes, +to keep their feet dry up above, and their sleeping-bags. +</p> +<p> +Before they reached the pasture, however, which +was at the extreme upper edge of timber-line, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span> +sun was overcast, and the wind was rising to a gale. +They kept on, in spite of it, and picking out the lee +side of a rock, where a tree grew about three feet +tall, till it got above the rock and then turned at a +right angle and trailed out parallel to the ground, +they got into their bags to wait. No sheep came +that morning, but as the wind rose and shrieked and +howled, and snow began to fall, they were too interested +to go back down. +</p> +<p> +If they raised their faces the least bit above this +rock, smash! came the gale to hit them, and the +snow particles cut like ice, while in the wind they +felt little stinging particles of rock dust that actually +hurt when they hit you. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t blame this tree for not growing any +higher!” Joe exclaimed. “It’s like us—just cuddles +down behind the rock.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” said Tom. “If a branch does grow up +over in summer, a wind like this the next winter just +cuts it off like pruning shears.” +</p> +<p> +The scouts were now beginning to get covered +with snow, and in spite of the fascination of lying up +here with the storm howling over them and feeling +why it is the trees at timber-line grow only a few +feet, or even in some cases a few inches, tall in a +hundred years, they realized it was time to be getting +down. +</p> +<p> +The instant they stood up, and got the full force +of the gale, they were almost knocked off their feet. +The snow was coming fast now, and it was all they +could do to keep their footing over the treacherous +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span> +rocks. They had no rope, as they had not supposed +they would need it, but when Joe was suddenly +bowled over, and went nearly fifty feet down a long +drift before he could dig in his heels and stop, it began +to look grave. +</p> +<p> +As soon as they got off the partially bare shoulder, +into a trifle less windy reach, they put on +their snow-shoes, and fought along toward the +Swift Current trail, almost blindly in a brief time, +for the snow was increasing till it shrouded them like +a cloud. +</p> +<p> +“Say, I’m getting nervous!” Joe cried. “We +ought to be at that trail by now.” +</p> +<p> +“Shut up,” Tom said. “If you get a funk, it lets +down your vitality, and then you’ll get cold and +freeze your ears or feet or something. We can’t miss +it; we got the pitch of the slope to go by.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s so,” Joe answered. And as he realized +that the slope would guide them, so they couldn’t go +in a circle, he suddenly felt warmer. He realized +how important it is to keep your head. +</p> +<p> +Once on the Swift Current trail, which, though +snow covered, showed plainly, they descended +rapidly on their snow-shoes, which gripped well. +There was not yet snow enough here to start a slide, +but they weren’t sure there might not be, and they +kept an anxious eye above them all the way down. +Once in the woods at the bottom, they hurried on +to the cabin, not even stopping to make tea. +</p> +<p> +“Say, you poor boobs,” Mills exclaimed, “I was +just coming after you. Why don’t you pick a wild, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290'></a>290</span> +windy, stormy day to go climbing Wilbur? What +are you trying to do, commit suicide?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Tom, “to see why the timber-line trees +are so dwarfed.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and we found out,” Joe added. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291'></a>291</span><a name='chXXV' id='chXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXV—Protecting the Deer Yards—The Scouts Wait in the Moonlight and Bag a Mountain Lion</h2> +<p> +That storm lasted two days, and it brought the +snow to the valley, laid at least sixteen inches +of it on the level in the woods, and swept it across +Lake McDermott against the hotel, till the drift +reached the top of the first story. As soon as it +stopped, the scouts and Mills were out on their snow-shoes, +tracking through the woods. +</p> +<p> +“I want to find out where the deer yards are going +to be this winter,” the Ranger said. “We’ll want to +know, so we can keep an eye on them, for lions or +wolves, and protect the herds if we can.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s a deer yard?” the boys asked. +</p> +<p> +“Big game, especially in winter, don’t travel very +much,” the Ranger answered. “They pick out +some place where the feeding is good, and learn to +know it well, not only where to get food, but where +to turn quick and hide from enemies. When winter +and deep snow come, they begin packing down the +snow with their hoofs in a sort of yard—moose, deer, +and sometimes even sheep do this—and as the snow +grows deeper, their packing raises them higher and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292'></a>292</span> +higher up, so they can feed on taller and taller bushes, +and even finally get up to the limbs of trees.” +</p> +<p> +Mills decided that the protected southwestern +slopes of the mountain along which the trail winds +to Iceberg Lake was a likely field, so the party split +up, and each one went his own way through the +woods and across the open parks, looking for tracks, +and following any that he discovered. They were to +meet at one o’clock on the shore of the lake. +</p> +<p> +Joe was soon out of sight and sound of the others, +and as he was lowest down, close to the brook at the +bottom of the cañon, he was also in the thickest +woods, where the fir-trees, covered with snow like +Christmas cards, shook their “frosty pepper” into +his nose as he pushed through. The brook was +partially frozen, and he often found it easiest to +walk on the snowy edge. Presently he came on +deer tracks leading into the open water, and not +emerging. The deer had walked up-stream, in the +water, evidently—several of them, and recently. He +hurried on, beside the brook, and suddenly, rounding +a little cover of pines, came full on a herd of five, +walking in the water. He had not heard them, +because of the gurgle of the brook, nor they him. +He stopped dead in his tracks and watched them a +second, before they got his scent, or in some other +way detected him, and turned to look. He did not +quite know what to do, but the deer quickly decided. +They stepped out of the brook and into the woods, +as if to let him pass. He went on, and looked back. +The deer had walked into the brook again, and were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293'></a>293</span> +slowly coming on, browsing on overhanging shrubs +as they came. +</p> +<p> +So Joe moved some distance from the bank, and +then followed them. After half a mile, they left the +stream and entered a thick, small wood where, just +outside, was long, dried grass under the snow. He +saw that they had been here before, pawing away +the snow to eat this hay. He followed into the +wood, stampeding them out on the farther side, and +found already the signs that they had begun to +stamp down paths through their “yard.” Walking +around the grove, he looked for tracks of coyotes or +lions, but there was nothing but the track of a snow-shoe +rabbit. The deer, so far, were safe. Indeed, +they even now stood about three hundred yards +away, watching him with alert curiosity, their heads +raised, a pretty picture over the white snow. +</p> +<p> +He carefully took note of the spot, and hurried on +to report. Tom and the Ranger reached the lake +about the time he did. The Ranger had found a +yard, also, and Tom had found a mink track, and +seen a snow-shoe rabbit, in his white winter dress. +</p> +<p> +They built a fire on the snow, beside the white +snow-field which was the lake (the water was now +frozen solid), and as they made their tea, they +watched a herd of goats low down on the cliff that +Tom had climbed, evidently quite content up there, +on the ledges too steep for snow to cling, and finding +something to eat. +</p> +<p> +“It must be dry picking,” Tom declared. “Why, +there was little enough in summer.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294'></a>294</span> +</p> +<p> +“And no tin cans,” Joe laughed. “You might +have left ’em a few tin cans, Tom, when you climbed +the wall.” +</p> +<p> +“Never thought of it,” Tom answered, “and now +it’s too slippery.” +</p> +<p> +From then on it became the scouts’ almost daily +task—or, rather, pleasure—to visit the deer yards to +see how the herds were getting on. There were five +deer in one yard, and eleven in the other, and before +long they got so used to the boys that if they happened +to be “at home,” as Joe put it, they would +hardly go a hundred yards away while the scouts +inspected their methods of feeding, looked for enemy +tracks, and sometimes left bundles of hay on the +tramped snow—hay which Joe had discovered he +could dig out in a sheltered spot near the chalets. +It wasn’t much, but it served to make the deer +tamer. +</p> +<p> +Often, now, the scouts came on their skis, for two +more storms had put three feet of snow on the +ground, and it elevated them above the underbrush. +The run home was thrilling, with long, fast slides +down open parks and hard, Telemark stems at the +bottom to keep from crashing into trees or rocks. +But they couldn’t get the Ranger on skis. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir!” he said. “You boys know how, and +can keep from breaking your necks. But I’m too +old to learn.” +</p> +<p> +It was the day after Thanksgiving, when Joe, true +to his word, had killed a hen and cooked the nearest +thing he could to a real New England Thanksgiving +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295'></a>295</span> +dinner, that he and Tom, visiting the first of their +yards early in the morning, came upon a tragedy. +</p> +<p> +There were no deer in sight as they approached, +and on entering the packed path under the trees +they heard no sounds. Pushing on, they came suddenly +upon all five beautiful creatures, lying dead +on the snow! There was blood on the snow, too, +and one or two bodies had been somewhat eaten. +But three of them had merely been killed wantonly, +and not eaten at all. +</p> +<p> +The boys were furious. They cocked their rifles, +and began a rapid, angry search for tracks. Yes—there +they were—big, catlike paw tracks! The lion +had crouched in the evergreens, sneaked up in the +night when the herd were huddled close for mutual +warmth, and laid them all low! +</p> +<p> +They circled the grove till they found the tracks +leading away, and followed them as fast as they +could. But, being on skis, they were soon baffled, +as the lion had made at once for the steep, rocky +cliffs. So they rushed to the other yard. Here the +herd had not been disturbed. They were all browsing +on a new path they had packed among some +willows. +</p> +<p> +“Come,” Joe cried. “Back to see Mills and find +out what to do! The old lion may get the other +herd to-night.” +</p> +<p> +That night there was a moon, and the Ranger and +the boys, clad in all their thickest clothes, with four +pairs of woollen socks in their big, easy moccasins, +with sweaters, fur coats, fleece-lined mittens and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296'></a>296</span> +bearskin helmets, advanced on snow-shoes up the +valley. +</p> +<p> +“The lion may come back to the carcases, or +wolves may scent ’em and come,” Mills said, “or +he may attack the other herd. Then, again, he may +do nothing, and we’ll have to watch every night for +a week. You two take the dead herd, and I’ll watch +the other. Approach it up wind—don’t get on the +windward side at all, and if you can find a good rest +in a tree, get up in that, with a clear view of the +opening. Let the lion get in close before you fire, +and let him have it in the heart and head. There +ought to be light enough to-night. Better have +your guns in rest, pointed at the carcases, so you +won’t have to make any noise lifting ’em.” +</p> +<p> +The Ranger and the scouts now separated, and +Joe and Tom, making a wide circle to get sharp to +leeward of the yard, moved silently over the deep +snow, in the cold, clear, almost Arctic moonlight, +with the great peaks of the Divide rising up like +silvery ghosts far overhead. There was no noise in +all the world, and no living thing except themselves, +except once when a startled snow-shoe rabbit leaped +across an opening, white as the snow he was half +wallowing in. +</p> +<p> +“Say, this is spooky!” Joe whispered. +</p> +<p> +“You bet,” Tom whispered back. “The little old +electric lights in Southmead Main Street are some +way off!” +</p> +<p> +They drew near the wood where the yard was, +and crept stealthily into the dark shadows of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297'></a>297</span> +pines. The dead deer lay in a tiny opening, five +black objects on the moonlit snow. The boys, still +keeping down wind, each picked out a tree, and +with their rifles carefully locked, climbed up through +the scratching, snowy branches till they could work +into some kind of a seat, and get their guns pointed +out, with an opening along the barrel to sight. +</p> +<p> +“Say, I hope the old lion don’t take too long,” +Tom whispered. “My seat’s about two inches wide, +and sharp on top.” +</p> +<p> +“Gosh, I’d sit on a needle all night to save those +other deer,” Joe answered. “But don’t talk. He +may be coming any minute.” +</p> +<p> +In cold and silence, they waited. There wasn’t a +sound, except now and then a muffled groan or +creak of a tree limb, as one or the other of the boys +had to shift his position. It grew later and later. +Joe’s eyes ached with watching the five black objects +on the snow, and the patch of white moonlight +around them. They ached, and would close. He +was bitterly cold, too. He did not know whether he +would be able to pull the trigger if the lion came, or +pry his lids wide enough apart to see the sights. +Every time he tried to sight the gun now, it was just +a blur of shining blackness. And he knew Tom +must be feeling the same way. Mills certainly had +not fired at anything—they could have heard a rifle +shot for ten miles in that deadly still Arctic hush. +</p> +<p> +Then, so suddenly it almost made him fall off his +branch, something dark and long and lean came +sneaking into the patch of moonlight. It was the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298'></a>298</span> +lion, its paws sinking down, its body crouched over +them, till it seemed to creep like a snake. In this +ghostly light, it looked about ten feet long, and Joe +suddenly felt hot blood go through his half-frozen +veins. +</p> +<p> +The lion gave a low, angry snarl, and stopped +dead about three feet from the body of a deer, raising +its head a little. Evidently it had heard Joe or +Tom moving his rifle barrel to sight. But he had +no time to retreat. Almost as one shot, the two +guns blazed, with two flashes of red out of the evergreens, +and a report that seemed to shatter the cold +night silence. +</p> +<p> +The dark form of the lion gave a leap into the air, +and landed kicking in the snow. +</p> +<p> +At the same instant two figures literally fell out of +the trees, and rushed toward it, going in up to their +waists, for neither waited to put on his snow-shoes +again. +</p> +<p> +Tom was the first near it. +</p> +<p> +“Look out!” Joe yelled. “He’s not dead! He +may come at you!” +</p> +<p> +But Tom had his gun up, and at pointblank +range, with his sights in full moonlight, he deliberately +took aim, and fired again, at the lion’s +heart. +</p> +<p> +The body gave a last kick, and fell on its side, +stone dead, its blood slowly running out on the +snow. +</p> +<p> +“<em>He’ll</em> never kill any more deer!” Tom cried. +</p> +<p> +They turned the lion over, and examined it. One +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299'></a>299</span> +bullet had hit him in the front leg, one in the jaw, +shattering it, and entering its throat. But which +shot was whose, nobody could say. +</p> +<p> +“I guess it was yours that got his head,” Tom +declared, “’cause I was so sleepy I couldn’t see to +sight.” +</p> +<p> +“My hands were so cold, I almost couldn’t pull +the trigger, so it must have been yours,” Joe answered. +</p> +<p> +“After you, my dear Alphonse,” Tom laughed. +“Anyhow, we both hit him, and that’s some shooting +at a hundred feet, in the middle of the night, +even if it is moonlight. We better get our snow-shoes +on, and drag him home. Wonder if Mr. Mills +will come, or stick it out at the other yard?” +</p> +<p> +“I bet he comes,” said Joe. “He must have +heard us fire.” +</p> +<p> +They made an improvised sledge of a big, broken +pine bough, to keep the body up on top of the snow, +and were tying it on to this with their handkerchiefs +knotted around the feet, when they heard a far call. +</p> +<p> +“He’s coming!” said Joe, and making his hands +into a trumpet, he answered the call. +</p> +<p> +They had the body out of the yard, and were +crossing an open park with it, tugging hard, when +the Ranger’s halloo sounded much nearer, and +shortly after he appeared in the moonlight, coming +fast. +</p> +<p> +“You got him, eh?” he said. “That’s good +work. I heard your two shots, and then one more. +That was to finish him at close range, I bet.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300'></a>300</span> +</p> +<p> +“You win,” said the boys. “Gee, but he’s heavy +to drag.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s a bum sled,” the Ranger laughed. +“Either of you got your axe on?” +</p> +<p> +“No, we haven’t,” the boys said. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll find a fallen pole, then. Drag him along to +the next stand.” +</p> +<p> +The Ranger went ahead, and found a small fallen +tree from which he broke the dead branches and +made a pole. Slipping this between the lion’s paws +(which were knotted together with handkerchiefs) he +picked up one end and Tom the other, the lion +hanging down between them. Joe took the rifles, +and they started home. +</p> +<p> +The moon was setting behind the Divide and the +world growing dark under the frosty stars as they +neared the cabin. Once inside, the boys got a rule, +and ran back to measure their prey. He was +exactly eight feet long, with three feet more of tail, +and by lantern light they could see his yellowish-brown +color, his gray face and dirty white belly. +He looked like some gigantic, elongated house cat. +</p> +<p> +“Is that what used to be all over the country, and +was called a panther?” Joe asked. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose it is,” the Ranger said. “Probably +this type that lives in the Rocky Mountains looks a +bit different, but it’s the same breed o’ cat. You +don’t have panthers out East any more, do +you?” +</p> +<p> +“No, they say one hasn’t been seen in Massachusetts +for fifty years or more,” Tom answered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301'></a>301</span> +“Don’t know that I’m sorry. I like the deer too +well.” +</p> +<p> +“Speaking of deer, to-morrow we’ll go up and +rescue the good carcases he didn’t eat, and have +some fresh meat,” said Mills. “Now to bed. Do +you know it’s two o’clock?” +</p> +<p> +“’Most time to get up!” the boys laughed, as +they cleaned their rifle barrels and made ready for +bunk. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302'></a>302</span><a name='chXXVI' id='chXXVI'></a>CHAPTER XXVI—A Hundred Miles in Four Days, Over the Snow, Which is a Long Trip To Get Your Mail</h2> +<p> +The next morning Mills was up at the usual time, +but he let the boys sleep, and it was the sound +of the breakfast dishes that woke Joe, who was +usually first up to do the cooking and get the stove +red hot. Joe himself slept in a separate little room +partitioned off at the back, so he could have his +window wide open without freezing out the whole +cabin. He got up now and hurried out, still sleepy. +</p> +<p> +“I had a funny dream last night,” he said. “I +dreamed we were bringing the lion home on the +sledge Peary took to the North Pole.” +</p> +<p> +“Not a bad idea!” the Ranger exclaimed. “We +might make a sledge to get the deer meat home on. +Suppose we do that to-day, and to-night we’ll take +turns guarding the yard from possible wolves.” +</p> +<p> +In the Ranger’s cabin was a kit of tools, and outside +was plenty of wood. A sled like Peary’s, however, +was impractical in the soft snow, and, moreover, +they soon found that without small hard woods +to work with it would be impossible to build any +kind of an enduring sledge. +</p> +<p> +“Why don’t we make a toboggan?” said Tom. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303'></a>303</span> +</p> +<p> +“You need hard wood for that, too, to curl the end—and +it takes time to steam the wood and get it +bent, anyhow,” Mills replied. +</p> +<p> +“Wait—I have it!” Joe cried. “You folks be getting +three or four strips of board ten feet long planed +down thin, with the under side smooth. I’ll come +back presently.” +</p> +<p> +He put on his skis and vanished down the trail, +with a shovel over his shoulder. +</p> +<p> +While he was gone Tom and the Ranger took two +boards left over from the stable, each about six +inches wide, and made another by hand-hewing it +from a fallen log close to the cabin. Before this was +done, Joe had returned, bearing triumphantly a +twenty-five pound butter box. +</p> +<p> +“I saw it behind the hotel, on the trash pile, when +I got the hens,” he said. “I went down there and +dug where I thought it was. Had to make three +holes and a tunnel before I got it—but it’s hard wood, +and all curled.” +</p> +<p> +When the third board was hewn out, and all three +planed smooth and thin, they were laid side by side +and connected with light crosspieces. Then the +bottom was removed from the big butter box, the +side drum severed, and one end securely fastened +under the front end of the toboggan bottom. Thus +the butter box curled up and around like the front of +a real toboggan. The loose end was secured with +thongs, and rings were put on either side of the +boards, to run ropes through to hold on a load. +Finally, a rope to pull it by was made fast. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304'></a>304</span> +</p> +<p> +“There!” Tom said. “That’s a regular toboggan, +and she’ll ride on top of the softest snow.” +</p> +<p> +“I wonder if she’ll buck when we throw a diamond +hitch?” Joe laughed. +</p> +<p> +As soon as supper was over, Joe went alone, with +his rifle, up to the yard, and watched over the dead +deer till eleven o’clock, when Tom relieved him. +Tom watched till three, and then the Ranger guarded +till daylight. +</p> +<p> +But before daylight Joe was up, cooked some +breakfast, roused Tom, and taking food for Mills and +pulling the toboggan, they hurried over the snow, +now well packed into a trail by their frequent trips +to the yard. All that morning they worked skinning +the deer, to save the valuable hides for moccasins, +thongs, and similar uses, and quartering the carcases +which the lion had not molested after killing them. +The meat, of course, was frozen now, and would keep +indefinitely. It was a great load of skins and meat +they finally packed upon the toboggan, piled high +and fastened securely on, but a very dirty, bloody, +tired lot of people to drag it home, and they were +glad enough that the yard was above the cabin, not +below it. +</p> +<p> +But that night, after they were washed, they sat +down to a fresh venison steak, and forgot their weariness, +as only men can who have lived largely on +canned goods for many weeks. +</p> +<p> +“M-m, m-m!” said Tom. “This is good! Somehow +I ain’t so mad at that old lion as I was!” +</p> +<p> +“What did you kill him for, then?” Mills laughed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305'></a>305</span> +“You might have had eleven other deer to eat if +you’d let him go.” +</p> +<p> +“Kind o’ mixed, isn’t it?” Tom confessed. “I +sure would kill him every time—but I’d rather eat +the deer than leave ’em for the wolves, just the same.” +</p> +<p> +“If you want something good to eat, get one of +your lion friends to kill a sheep for you, and bring +us some mutton,” said the Ranger. “I haven’t had +a piece of mutton for ten years, I guess. Before this +was a Park, and we used to hunt here, my! the +feasts I’ve had!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I could stand tinned beef all my life, to see +the sheep alive,” Joe declared. “I’m glad it’s a +Park now.” +</p> +<p> +The next day the hides were spread to cure, and +the meat was all cleaned and hung, and the three +then overhauled their equipment and packed up to +make a start the next day for Glacier Park station. +No mail had come to anybody since October, they +had been able to send no letters to their parents, and +the Ranger had not even been able to report to the +Park superintendent, or the boys to send telegrams +since the storm before Thanksgiving, because the +telephone wire between Many Glacier Hotel and the +railroad had been broken. As a rule, Mills used this +wire in winter. One of the objects of their trip was +to see about this break. +</p> +<p> +The trip out to the railroad, which was about fifty-five +miles by automobile road, could now be reduced +to about forty-five, because they could cut cross lots, +over the deep snow, shaving the end of Flat Top +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306'></a>306</span> +Mountain (not the Flat Top of the Valley Forge +camp, but another on the eastern edge of the overthrust), +and by good hiking reach Glacier Park station +in two days. They planned to take the toboggan, +loading on it their provisions, sleeping-bags, a +small tent, axes, and the scouts’ snow-shoes. The +boys planned to wear skis for a good part of the +trip, and to put Mills on the toboggan on the down +grades, thus saving time. He laughed at the idea, +but as the shoes were light made no objection. +</p> +<p> +That night was clear and cold, and the next day +promised to be fair. Joe and Tom sat up late, getting +letters ready to send home, and Joe spent an +hour on a letter to Lucy Elkins, telling her about his +life in the Park, and promising to send snow pictures +as soon as he could get them developed. But they +were up long before the sun in the morning, and set +off by starlight, all three on the ropes of the toboggan, +down the trail. +</p> +<p> +When they came to the first long, snowy slope, +Mills said, “Let me see one of you go down it on +your skis.” +</p> +<p> +Tom dropped the rope, and ran, gaining speed as +he went, the snow flying out from under the prow of +his skis, and a moment later was waving his hand +from the bottom. +</p> +<p> +“Saves time, all right,” the Ranger agreed, “but +what’s to become of me?” +</p> +<p> +“Get on the back of the toboggan, let one foot +hang out and steer with it, and come along,” Joe +laughed. “It’s easy.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307'></a>307</span> +</p> +<p> +“I never steered one of the blamed things,” said +Mills. +</p> +<p> +“Here, you sit on top of the bags, and hold my +skis. I’ll show you.” +</p> +<p> +Joe took his skis off, put Mills on the front, and +pushed the toboggan over. A cloud of snow rose +over the curl of the butter box prow, powdering the +Ranger in the face, and they flew down the hill in +Tom’s tracks, and stopped at his side. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ll be darned—here we be!” was all +Mills said, as he brushed off the snow. +</p> +<p> +“Tom, I believe there’s something we can teach +Mr. Mills!” Joe laughed. “I believe he was afraid +of a toboggan!” +</p> +<p> +Mills’ blue eyes twinkled a little. +</p> +<p> +“By gosh, I’ll go down the next one on your skis, +just for that!” +</p> +<p> +They pushed on steadily down the Swift Current +Valley, taking the easiest way over the frozen lake, +into the sunrise, and then, at the valley’s mouth, +swinging south and cutting across toward the end of +Flat Top. Mills did put on Joe’s skis at the next +favorable slope—and the scouts had to dig him out +of the snow half-way down! +</p> +<p> +“Take your old skis,” he spluttered, grabbing for +his snow-shoes again. “I’ll stick to what I’m used +to—and the toboggan. I don’t have to balance the +toboggan.” +</p> +<p> +After that, he steered the toboggan down the +hills, while the scouts ran on skis. +</p> +<p> +For the up grades, the boys put on their snow-shoes, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308'></a>308</span> +also, because even on a gentle slope you back-slide +with skis if you are pulling a load. They +reached the ridge over Lower St. Mary Lake at +noon, ate lunch, lowered the toboggan down the +slope to the lake, and then ran on the white, level +snow surface above the ice inshore, due south, till +at evening they had passed St. Mary Chalets at the +foot of Upper St. Mary Lake, and went on into a +stand of thick woods, where they decided to +camp. +</p> +<p> +The tent was pitched in the most sheltered spot, +on packed snow, facing a rock, and on logs laid +across the snow packed in front of the rock they built +a roaring fire. With the heat of this fire, Joe was able +to cook supper without his mittens on, though he +could not go far away from it without them. When +supper was over, they built the fire up afresh, laid +in a big supply of wood, and crawling into their +sleeping-bags, under the shelter of the tent, itself +sheltered by the evergreens, with the flap facing the +fire left wide open and the rock reflecting the heat +in to them, they were surprisingly warm, when you +consider that they were sleeping on snow, with the +mercury in the thermometer outside playing tag +somewhere below the zero mark—or it would have +been, if there had been a thermometer outside. +</p> +<p> +It was “anybody’s job,” if he woke up, to crawl +out and throw more wood on the fire, and Joe twice +did this. Both times, however, must have been +long before morning, because when he finally woke +up there was a faint hint of dawn in the sky, and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309'></a>309</span> +fire was practically out—only the logs they had +placed on the snow for a fire base were smouldering. +</p> +<p> +He crawled out again, and built a new fire. +Then he took a kettle and went to see if he could +find any brook open, it was such a slow job melting +snow. When he got back, the others were up, +stretching and warming themselves by the blaze. +The coffee certainly tasted good that morning! +And how fragrantly the hot bacon sizzled and spluttered +in the pan! +</p> +<p> +They made the second stage of their journey chiefly +over the prairie, more or less following the motor +road, but cutting off all the corners they could to reduce +mileage, and getting dozens of wonderful ski +runs over the treeless slopes, while Mills, who by +now had become quite an expert steering the toboggan, +came on behind. +</p> +<p> +“When I get back,” he kept saying, “I’m going +to learn to use those blooming things, too—but on a +little hill first!” +</p> +<p> +The early twilight was deepening into night, and +the northern lights were playing when they came +over the final slope and saw the railroad signal +lights—the first sign of other human beings than +themselves they’d laid eyes on since October. +</p> +<p> +Half an hour later they were at the station, Mills +was telephoning to Park headquarters at Lake +McDonald, and the boys were getting their accumulated +mail—letters from home, newspapers for two +months past, a big box of cakes and sweet chocolate +for Tom from his mother, and, for Joe, a long letter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310'></a>310</span> +from Lucy Elkins, enclosing the pictures she had +taken on their trip. +</p> +<p> +That evening they slept in beds at the house of the +station agent, after they had spent the evening hearing +the news from the outside world. The mass of +newspapers they kept to read in the long evenings +back in the cabin. Laying in some additional provisions, +and carefully packing their precious papers, +they started back in the morning, over their old +tracks, which, except in windy places where they +were drift covered, afforded now pretty easy sledding +for the toboggan. They made camp again in +the same spot, and were up before daylight for the +last stage, Mills looking scowlingly at the sky. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t like it to-day, boys,” he said. “We’re in +for a storm. Let’s beat it home, if we can.” +</p> +<p> +And that day he gave them little rest, driving on +at a fast pace, with the toboggan rope straining over +his shoulder. The sun went under before noon. By +mid-afternoon, as they entered the Swift Current valley +mouth, the peaks of the Divide were lost in a +cold, gun metal cloud, and the wind was rising. They +faced this wind all up the valley, with no chance now +to coast—only a steady, grinding up-hill pull. +</p> +<p> +It was dark long before they got to the cabin, and +the snow had begun to fall in fine, stinging flakes. +They were a cold, weary lot when finally they tugged +their load up the last grade to the level of the lake, +passed into the trees at the tepee camp, and a few +minutes later tumbled into the cold cabin, and began +to pile wood into the stove. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311'></a>311</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, Joe, get a hunk of that venison out, and +let’s forget this day!” Mills cried. “Light up the +big lamp, Tom. We’ve got kerosene enough, too. +Let’s be cheerful.” +</p> +<p> +The roar of the logs in the stove, the light of the +lamp, and presently the smell of food and coffee, +acted like magic. They were soon laughing again, +while the wind rose outside, and the trees groaned +and creaked, and the snow drove with a kind of hissing +patter against the windows and the roof. +</p> +<p> +“A hundred miles in four days, over four feet +of snow, and pulling a toboggan—gosh, if anybody’d +told me old Joe could do that last May, I’d have +thought he was crazy,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +“You couldn’t have done it yourself last May,” Joe +replied. +</p> +<p> +“And,” said the Ranger, stretching out his legs +and rubbing them, “by golly, <em>I</em> don’t want to do it +again!” +</p> +<p> +“Ho,” said Tom, “I feel fine!” +</p> +<p> +But he was the first to propose bed—although it +must be admitted nobody quarreled with his suggestion. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312'></a>312</span><a name='chXXVII' id='chXXVII'></a>CHAPTER XXVII—The Ranger and the Boys Get a Ride Down the Mountain on a Snow Avalanche, and Don’t Look for Another</h2> +<p> +The following day the storm was still raging, +and it kept it up till night, too. The drifts were +piled half-way up the windows, shutting out their +light, the rear door, leading to the stable, was completely +barricaded by a drift, and they had to make +periodic sallies with a shovel out of the front door, +which opened on a veranda four feet above ground +level, to keep that clear. It was too bitter cold, the +wind too penetrating, to invite further expeditions. +Even clearing the veranda in front of the door was +a job they quarreled over, and finally had to assign +at intervals of one hour, each person taking his turn +while the other two peered out of the window to see +if he did a thorough job. +</p> +<p> +But they had plenty of dry wood inside, and the +accumulated newspapers of two months to read, +so the day didn’t drag, after all. +</p> +<p> +“And,” said the Ranger, “about to-morrow, or +next day, the slides will start, the real slides, this time. +That’ll be something worth coming out here for. +There is so much of this snow that the steep places +can’t hold it all, and the first sun will send it down.” +</p> +<p> +That night, toward morning, Joe was awakened by +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313'></a>313</span> +a sound like thunder, and sat up in his sleeping-bag, +astonished. +</p> +<p> +“What’s a thunder-storm doing in December?” +he thought. +</p> +<p> +There was no lightning, however, and he could +see outside the brilliant starlight. +</p> +<p> +“Slides!” he suddenly remembered. And as +soon as it was light, he was up, getting breakfast. +Breakfast over, he and Tom lost no time in getting +on their snow-shoes and hurrying out, free of the +woods, on the white surface of the frozen lake, with +no less than eight feet of snow under them. The +sun was now up over the prairie, and sending its +rays up the Swift Current Valley and hitting the snow-covered +peaks till they glistened rosy. And all +around, from the steep walls of Gould, six miles +away, to the upper precipices of the two mountains +hemming in the lake over their heads, the snowslides +were leaping and booming with a noise like +soft thunder. It was a wonderful sight. You had +no idea where or when one was going to start. A +steep precipice, covered with snow, would suddenly +show signs of life, the snow high up would start slipping, +and as the mass descended it would grow in volume, +sweeping the slope beneath it and sending up a +comet’s tail of snow-dust, till it ran out with a boom and +a roar upon the less steep slopes below. All around +the slides were running, and the steep places seemed +fairly to smoke with the comet tails of snow-dust. +</p> +<p> +“Of course,” said Mills, when he was ready to +set out, “these slides now are just top snow, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314'></a>314</span> +latest fall sliding off the very steep places, and doing +little or no harm. In spring the bad ones come, +when the whole winter mass, and all the ice and +rocks it has gathered up, come down. Then, once +in a great while, a third kind will descend—the accumulated +snow and ice and rock dust of maybe half a +century or more. That kind always chooses a place +where there hasn’t been a slide before, wipes out forests +as it comes, and sometimes houses and people in +the valleys. The slides to-day all follow regular channels. +I know where there’ll probably be a good one.” +</p> +<p> +He led the way up toward the Divide, by a side +tributary of the Swift Current. They climbed +steadily a long way up toward the steep head wall, +leaving the deep brook bed at the danger point, +and working on the side slope above it. Finally they +reached a point where they were almost under the +steep wall, and separated from the brook channel +by a mass of rock. Here they waited. They had +not long to wait. Suddenly, without any warning, +the snow almost above them started slipping, and in +a few seconds was coming down the brook bed at a +tremendous rate, pushing all the last snowfall and +some of the old ahead of it as it came. By the time +it reached the point just below Mills and the two +scouts, it was apparently going thirty miles an hour, +with a head about forty feet high, the whole mass +maybe fifty or a hundred feet wide and two hundred +feet long, and churning, foaming, falling over and +over itself with a great, booming roar and sending +out a perfect gale of snow-dust. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315'></a>315</span> +</p> +<p> +As it rushed past, the noise was so great that no +one heard a lesser roar behind him. Without any +warning, a smaller slide had started just above the +three observers, no doubt caused by the jar and +shock of the first, and suddenly the snow boiled up +under their feet, they were launched downward on +this second slide, and found themselves on the tail +end of the big one. +</p> +<p> +Then followed the wildest ride any of them had +ever had, or ever wanted to have. +</p> +<p> +Of course, it was only their wide western snow-shoes +that saved their lives. In a second, they were +on the tail of the big slide, riding on top of fifty feet +of boiling, churning, racing snow, that was by this +time going down-hill at close to a mile a minute. +If you have ever run logs on a river, you know what +a slippery job that is. But imagine the logs leaping +up and down as well as rolling around, and traveling +a mile a minute down-hill into the bargain, and +finally casting up a deluge of powdered snow-dust +into your face, and you will have some idea of the +job that confronted Mills and Tom and Joe. +</p> +<p> +No one dared look at the others. No one could +speak, or make himself heard six inches from his +mouth if he did open it. Each of them looked at his +own feet, or tried to through the blinding snow powder, +and just trod snow desperately, to keep upright. To +fall down meant to be churned in under the boiling +mass, and probably suffocated, or crushed to death. +</p> +<p> +After about one minute that seemed like an hour, +the slide had descended to less steep ground. Here +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316'></a>316</span> +it hit a little pine wood, and Joe just could see, +through the flying snow, the trees go crashing down +in front, and those on either side (their tops level +with his feet!) bow and bend in the wind made by +the rushing slide. A second later a tree came boiling +up out of the snow right under his feet—or a log, +rather, for all its branches were stripped off. He +jumped madly to avoid it, and it missed him only +by a hair’s breadth. +</p> +<p> +Beyond the wood, the slide ran out into an open +park, went up the incline on the further side by its +own momentum, and there spread itself out and +came to rest. +</p> +<p> +Joe wiped the snow-dust from his eyes and looked +to see what had become of Tom and the Ranger. +He was still on his feet, but they were not. The +final slump of the slide, with the tail end on which +they rode telescoping over the centre, had flung +them down and half buried them. For some reason +Joe had been able to keep his feet. He sprang to +help them up, crying, “Are you hurt?” +</p> +<p> +They both rose, dazed, and wiped their faces. +</p> +<p> +“I—I dunno!” Tom said. “I haven’t had time +to find out!” +</p> +<p> +The Ranger was red with rage. +</p> +<p> +“It had no business to start there!” he exclaimed. +“We ought to have been in a safe place. Teaches +me a lesson—you can’t bank on slides any time o’ +year. That drift above where we stood is always +anchored till spring.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I guess it’s lucky we’re alive!” Joe exclaimed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317'></a>317</span> +“Wow! that was some ride! I never +was kept so busy in my life!” +</p> +<p> +“And I never want to be again,” Mills said. +“Boys, had enough slides for to-day? Seen how +they work?” +</p> +<p> +“I sure have!” both exclaimed, in one breath. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s go home. What I’d like to see now is a +Chinook wind, to take some of this snow away. +There’s too much of it.” +</p> +<p> +“Do Chinook winds come before spring?” Joe +asked. He had heard of the dry, warm wind which +comes over the ranges, from the warm Pacific current, +raising the temperature sometimes sixty degrees +in as many minutes, and evaporating the snow +like magic. +</p> +<p> +“Sometimes,” Mills said. “And we need it now, +or all the animals will starve.” +</p> +<p> +They were all too weary and even a bit shaky +after that terrific ride, to do much more that day. +Mills did go over to try his telephone, which he +found the storm had put out of commission again, +and then they sat around the cabin and talked over +the two minute excitement, which had seemed, while +it lasted, nearer two hours. +</p> +<p> +For supper that night Joe got out a can of lobster +he found in the storeroom. He thought it would be +a special treat, and it was to Mills, but Tom didn’t +like lobster, and Joe himself didn’t care much for it, +either, when he came to taste it. So Mills ate it all. +</p> +<p> +“Came near death this morning—might as well +risk my life again to-night,” he laughed. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318'></a>318</span><a name='chXXVIII' id='chXXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XXVIII—Tom Starts on a Long Hike in the Deep Snow, Over the Divide, Risking Snow-Slides, to Save the Ranger’s Life</h2> +<p> +The Ranger spoke in jest, but in the night the +boys were awakened by his groans, and they +found his words were anything but a joke. He was +suffering terrible pain, in his stomach evidently, and +they had never seen anybody look so sick. They +scrambled into clothes; Joe made up the fire and put +on water to heat, while Tom got out their first aid kit, +and made an emetic, which they got down the poor +Ranger’s throat. The results eased his pain a little, +but the boys were certainly scared. +</p> +<p> +“We <em>got</em> to get a doctor,” Tom cried. “We <em>got</em> +to—a doctor or somebody who knows what to do. +I got to get over Swift Current, and down to Lake +McDonald, to the Park superintendent’s office. That’s +all there is to it.” +</p> +<p> +“You can’t—you can’t!” Joe exclaimed. “Think +of that head wall if a slide hit you! Besides, it’s +thirty miles to the hotel at the head of the lake, and +you don’t know the way. I do. I’ll have to go.” +</p> +<p> +“A lot I’ll let <em>you</em> go! No such over-exertion for +you, and you just well. Besides, I know the way +over the pass and down to Mineral Creek. Then I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319'></a>319</span> +turn south, through the woods, and just follow the +one trail. I couldn’t miss it, and if I did, all I’d have +to do would be to take the creek bed. I can start +before daylight, get to the head wall at sunrise, be +over the pass and down the other side before noon, +and have five hours of light to make twenty miles.” +</p> +<p> +“What if there shouldn’t be any caretaker at the +hotel at the head of the lake?” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll break in and use the ’phone, and make a +fire. Anyhow, I’ll pack my sleeping-bag on my +back, and get to the superintendent’s camp the next +morning.” +</p> +<p> +He flew to make his preparations, putting on all +his warmest clothes, with extra socks and mitts stowed +in his sleeping-bag, while Joe put him up tea, bacon, +matches, raisins and sweet chocolate, in the smallest +possible space, got his axe and compass, and extra +snow-shoe thongs in case of accident, and finally +cooked him some bacon and made tea. +</p> +<p> +“I’m coming with you to the foot of the Swift +Current switchbacks,” said Joe. “I <em>got</em> to know +whether you get up to the top safe!” +</p> +<p> +“But the Ranger?” +</p> +<p> +“I can’t help him much if I stay—and I guess +he’s in no more danger than you’ll be. Oh, Spider, +I <em>got</em> to know if you get up there safe!” +</p> +<p> +Poor Joe was close to anxious tears as he spoke, +and Tom grasped his hand. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll get there!” he cried. +</p> +<p> +Mills was now only half conscious, moaning on +his bed, and the two boys slipped out into the starlight +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320'></a>320</span> +and pushed up the Swift Current trail. It was +bitterly cold. Joe carried the pack all the way to +the foot of the switchbacks, so that Tom could be as +fresh as possible. Then, at the foot, as day was +beginning to redden in the east and give light +enough to follow the windings of the trail by, for, on +this steep slope, even such a deep snow could not +quite hide the cuts the trail made in the bank, the +two scouts shook hands silently, and Tom started +up. +</p> +<p> +“It’s Mills’ life, or mine,” he said, grimly. +</p> +<p> +Joe watched him go up, slowly, carefully, following +the trail wherever he could detect it by the +contour of the snow. Two or three times his snow-shoes +started a small slide of loose snow, but as he +was above the starting point, it left him secure, rushing +down past Joe with a whirl and shower of snow +powder. But on this slope, steep as it was, the tiny +trees and shrubs seemed to anchor the snow, and +there were no large slides at all. After an hour, +from far above him, Joe heard a faint, thin, +“Hoo-oo!” and knew that Tom was beyond danger. +</p> +<p> +His heart seemed to come back into his breast +again, and with a great sigh of relief he hurried back +in the level sunrise light, to the cabin, to do what he +could for the sufferer. +</p> +<p> +There followed for Joe a long vigil, almost helpless, +with a very sick man. He gave him hot water +to drink, and improvised a hot water bag with a hot +stone wrapped in flannel, but he had no medicines, +and could do little but watch the poor Ranger suffer, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321'></a>321</span> +and wonder, and wonder, how Tom was getting on, +until a great, dark, ugly cloud suddenly began to +come over the top of the Divide, from the west, and +his wonder changed to fear and then almost to terror. +It looked as if the worst blizzard of all was raging +already on the west side of the range, where Tom +was tracking, all alone, miles from any human being, +in the deep forests of the cañon! +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322'></a>322</span><a name='chXXIX' id='chXXIX'></a>CHAPTER XXIX—Tom Tramps Down McDonald Creek in a Chinook Wind, and Reaches Shelter Almost Exhausted</h2> +<p> +Meanwhile, Tom had been losing no time. +An hour after he had yelled to Joe from the +top of the danger zone on the wall, he had gone +over the pass and reached the Granite Park chalet. +Here he paused a few moments for breath, and +looked across the shadow-filled cañon to the great +white pinnacle of Heaven’s Peak, rosy-white with +the sunrise. Then he plunged down the trail, with +little fear of snowslides on this side because of the +trees to anchor the drifts, and in another hour reached +the Lake McDonald trail at the bottom. Without +any pause, he plugged steadily along through the +tall, silent, lonely forest, over such deep snow that +he was elevated far above the underbrush and had +difficulty sometimes in spotting the trail, and kept +at it till noon. Then he paused to build a fire of +dead pine limbs on trodden snow and cook himself +some bacon, roasting it on a stick. +</p> +<p> +It was not till this lunch was eaten that he noticed +the dusking of the sun, and looking up saw a great, +ugly, dark cloud coming over the range to the west. +</p> +<p> +His heart, like Joe’s back in the cabin a little later, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323'></a>323</span> +went down somewhere into his moccasins. But, he +kept telling himself, he had only a dozen or fifteen +more miles to go, he was in the protection of woods, +and he couldn’t get lost because the cañon walls +would always show him the way. Besides, he had +his sleeping-bag. He could crawl into some hollow +tree with it, if the blizzard got too bad. But he +must not stop if he could help it. +</p> +<p> +“Mills’ life or mine!” he kept saying. “It’s up +to me to save the Ranger!” +</p> +<p> +And he shouldered his pack once more, and +pressed on, with one anxious eye on the trail, one +on the cloud above, which was rapidly spreading +across to the eastern range and enveloping the +Divide. Every second he expected to see the first +white, driving sheets of the blizzard, for the cloud +was racing now, the wind up there was blowing +hard. Yet no snow came. In fact, Tom began to +get hot. He thought it was the exertion of trying +to increase his pace. But when he stopped to rest +his weary shoulders a moment, he was still hot. +The wind was certainly beginning to come roaring +down into the trees above him now. At last it hit +his face. It was a hot wind! +</p> +<p> +Then, suddenly, he realized what was coming. +“The Chinook!” he cried aloud. +</p> +<p> +It was the Chinook! In half an hour, Tom was +in a wringing perspiration, and his fur coat had +taken its place on his pack. Under his feet a miracle +was being performed. The level of the snow was +steadily sinking—slowly, to be sure, here in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324'></a>324</span> +woods, but steadily. It was sticky on his snow-shoes, +but not half so sticky as he thought it would +be. The wind seemed so dry that it just soaked the +snow up, instead of melting it. +</p> +<p> +On and on Tom plodded, wearily, almost exhausted +now, going on sheer nerve, till close to five +o’clock he got a hint of the lake. Then he picked +up other snow-shoe tracks, and Robinson Crusoe +could not have been more delighted at the sight of a +human footprint. +</p> +<p> +“There’s somebody at the hotel!” Tom cried, +again aloud. +</p> +<p> +This sight gave him a second wind, and he +plugged on, with clear hints of the lake through the +trees now, and what seemed like open water. But +the trail kept off to the east of it, and it was getting +rapidly dark when he finally came into a clearing +and saw the hotel. +</p> +<p> +The hotel was dark, but near by, in a smaller +house, there shone a light! Tom hurried, with his +last ounce of strength, to the door, and pounded. +</p> +<p> +The door was opened, and Tom almost fell in. +A strong hand caught him, and steadied him while +he got off his snow-shoes, and then steadied him to +a chair. +</p> +<p> +“Well, who be you, and where’d you come from?” +a voice asked. +</p> +<p> +Tom could see little but the warm lamplight. The +room, the face of the man, were all a blur. +</p> +<p> +“Many Glacier, over Swift Current,” he gasped. +“Mills ate something last night—he’s awful sick—telephone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325'></a>325</span> +to the superintendent—or somebody—send +a doctor.” +</p> +<p> +“You mean to tell me you’ve come over Swift +Current since last night, in that snow, and then +through the Chinook?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes—’phone for a doctor—quick!” +</p> +<p> +“Why didn’t you ’phone from Many Glacier?” +</p> +<p> +“Wire’s on the bum—can’t you hurry and ’phone?” +Tom almost wailed. +</p> +<p> +“Easy, son, easy,” the voice steadied him. “Nobody +can start back now till mornin’. I want to get +this right. I can hardly believe it.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, you <em>got</em> to believe it!” Tom cried. +</p> +<p> +The man rose and began to work at the stove. +Presently he brought Tom a big cup of hot coffee, +and a plate of food, and stood by while he drank +and ate. +</p> +<p> +As the hot coffee and the food began to revive +him, Tom told the whole story over again, more +calmly, and the caretaker listened, his eyes big. +</p> +<p> +“Well, son,” he said, “you’re all to the mustard. +Now, if you’re able, we’ll go ’phone.” +</p> +<p> +He led the way, and Tom repeated his story to the +Park superintendent’s office. +</p> +<p> +“Be ready to start back at daylight,” a voice said. +“If the Chinook’s cleared open water enough for the +launch to get up the lake, we’ll pick you up where +you are. Otherwise, meet us at the fork of the east +and west trail at the head of the lake an hour after +sunrise—that is, if you are up to going back with us.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be there!” Tom said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326'></a>326</span> +</p> +<p> +His new friend now took him back into the warm, +lighted room, made him undress and give himself a +good rub, and then put him to bed on a couch in the +corner. +</p> +<p> +“If you’re goin’ back over that trail to-morrow,” +he said, “you’ll need all the sleep you can get to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“I guess you’re right,” Tom answered, as he fell +wearily, helplessly, upon the soft spring, and almost +immediately felt his eyelids close of their own accord. +That was the last he remembered till a hand on his +shoulder was shaking him,—it seemed about five +minutes later. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327'></a>327</span><a name='chXXX' id='chXXX'></a>CHAPTER XXX—Tom Gets Back with the Doctor, and Mills Pulls Through—Then the Scouts Have To Leave for Home</h2> +<p> +“Time to get up,” said the voice of the owner of the hand. +</p> +<p> +Tom opened his eyes. The room was still lighted +by a lamp, but something told him it was morning, +perhaps the gray light at the window. He rose +stiffly, and helped his host get breakfast. Going +out, he found the Chinook wind had passed, but it +had been blowing, apparently, a good while, for the +lake was open water all the way inshore now, except +for a fringe of ice cakes piled up like ragged surf +along the eastern side. +</p> +<p> +“The lake hadn’t frozen yet very far out, anyhow,” +the caretaker said. “But the Chinook’s sure taken +the snow down!” +</p> +<p> +It had. As if by magic, the eight or ten feet of +snow that yesterday had covered everything except +the trees was reduced to less than two. The air, too, +while it had the sting of winter again, was not bitterly +cold—just a nice winter temperature. +</p> +<p> +As the sun was beginning to redden the peaks +above the lake, Tom heard the <em>put-put</em> of a motor +boat far off, and in half an hour a launch had worked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328'></a>328</span> +in through the floating ice to the end of the pier and +a ranger accompanied by a young man threw their +packs on the pier and climbed out. +</p> +<p> +“<em>You</em> the man that came over Swift Current yesterday?” +the Ranger said, looking at Tom. “Why, +you’re only a boy!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I did it—and I’d do more’n that for Mr. +Mills!” Tom answered. +</p> +<p> +“You were takin’ chances on the Swift Current +head wall,” the Ranger said. “I’m mighty glad the +Chinook came, before I have to go down that trail.” +</p> +<p> +“I got sort of used to slides,” Tom said, as they +all fastened on their packs, and waved farewell to +the caretaker. He told the Ranger and the doctor +about their ride on the snowslide. +</p> +<p> +“Say, you’ve been havin’ an excitin’ time up +there,” the Ranger laughed. “Wonder what’s happened +since you left?” +</p> +<p> +“If Mills has ptomaine poisoning, nothing has +happened,” the doctor said. “He’s simply been +wishing it would!” +</p> +<p> +They grew silent as the grind began up the cañon +trail through the forest. Tom’s tracks of yesterday, +melted less than the unpacked snow, showed plainly, +and often he had been way off the trail, taking short +cuts ten feet up where he was clear of underbrush. +</p> +<p> +“Didn’t intend to,” he said. “But the snow was +so deep I couldn’t always see the trail, and just +steamed straight ahead.” +</p> +<p> +At noon they paused an hour for lunch and rest, +and then picked up their loads again. The low sun +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329'></a>329</span> +was sinking behind Heaven’s Peak when they reached +the top of the pass, and took off their snow-shoes, for +the Chinook had stripped all the snow from the +Divide, where the wind had previously blown it thin. +On the head wall, they found only a few inches, and +they were able to slide from one switchback to the +next lower, thus cutting off the turns and descending +with great rapidity. +</p> +<p> +But even so it was dark before they reached the +cabin, and once more Tom was traveling on sheer +nerve. So was the doctor, for that matter, though +the Ranger seemed as fresh as when they started. +They had been on the trail for twelve hours, with +only one hour rest. +</p> +<p> +But Tom was the first up the steps and in the door. +</p> +<p> +Joe sprang up from a chair to greet him, and by +the lamplight he could see Mills, on the couch, and +heard him say, in a weak voice, “Hello, Tom.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank God!” Tom cried, and slumped down +weary and exhausted on his pack. +</p> +<p> +The doctor went to work at once. “What have +you done for him?” he asked Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing much I could do,” Joe said. “We gave +him an emetic as soon as he was sick, and I gave +him physic and hot water. The hot water seemed +to ease him a little.” +</p> +<p> +“Good,” the doctor answered. “You couldn’t +have done better. He’ll come around all right now. +Sick, were you, Mills?” +</p> +<p> +Mills groaned for reply. +</p> +<p> +“When the Chinook came,” Joe laughed, “I told +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330'></a>330</span> +him I thought a blizzard was going to hit us, and he +said he hoped it would blow the cabin into the lake!” +</p> +<p> +Joe now hurried about getting supper and making +up beds for the tired men, while Mills lay feebly on +the couch and made Tom sit by him and tell about +his trip. +</p> +<p> +“You shouldn’t ’a’ done it, boy,” he kept saying. +“You shouldn’t ’a’ risked it for the old Ranger.” +</p> +<p> +But that night they were roused by hearing poor +Mills in the throes of another attack. The doctor +hurried to him. +</p> +<p> +“It’s brought on a sort of acute indigestion,” he +said to the others. “I didn’t realize he was so bad. +It’s lucky I’m here, for you can’t let such attacks go +on, or they get you.” +</p> +<p> +All that night he and Joe sat up with the sick man, +and all the next day, and the day after that, he kept +the Ranger in bed, and doctored him. +</p> +<p> +The third day Mills was feeling better, and grew +restless. +</p> +<p> +“You stay where you are,” the doctor laughed, +“and thank young Tom who got me, and Joe who +dosed you till I came, that you’re alive at all! I’ve +got to go to-morrow, but Jerry will stay with you +and feed you according to schedule till you’re O.K. +again.” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose that means the boys are going to-morrow, +too,” Mills answered. “They—they got to be +home for Christmas. Say, doc, can’t you make ’em +just sick enough so they’ll have to stay?” +</p> +<p> +The doctor laid a hand on his shoulder. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331'></a>331</span> +</p> +<p> +“Maybe I can get you transferred to headquarters +till you’re all right again,” he said. “Then you +won’t miss the boys so much.” +</p> +<p> +But if it was hard for the Ranger to part with Tom +and Joe, it was scarcely less hard for them to leave +him, even if it did mean getting home to their families +for Christmas, yet they could not put it off a day +longer, because already they had just time to make +connections at Chicago and reach home on Christmas +morning. The Ranger’s sickness had delayed +them. +</p> +<p> +So Tom and Joe began to pack. They had long +realized they would have to leave some day, and in +mid-winter, so they had sent home by express all +their summer clothes and their balloon silk tent and +their folding cots, in their trunks, by the last bus out +in October. But they still had a big load. All the +books, except a few school books, they left for Mills. +Most of their clothes they put on. The two sleeping-bags +and the snow-shoes, which belonged to the +Ranger, they were to leave with the station agent. +Their bearskin caps and coats, which Mills had procured +for them, he made them keep as a present, and +Tom, for a present to him, left his skis behind. Joe +left as his present the warm, soft bed puff he had +used ever since he came to the Park, and his aluminum +coffee-pot, to take the place of the battered old +tin one Mills used. +</p> +<p> +They packed the toboggan that night, to be ready +for an early start, and then sat around the stove for +the last time, in the little cabin. The doctor and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332'></a>332</span> +other Ranger did all the talking. Mills, who lay on the +couch, and the boys did not feel like saying a word. +</p> +<p> +The next morning Joe cooked the last breakfast. +Poor Mills was not allowed to drink any coffee. +</p> +<p> +“I’m goin’ to drink tea after this, anyhow, Joe,” +he said. “You’ve spoiled my taste for my own +coffee, confound you.” +</p> +<p> +He came to the door to help in the last packing of +the toboggan. “If you’ve left anything, I’ll keep it +till you come back next summer,” he said, trying to +laugh. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll be back!” the scouts cried. “We’ll be +rangers, too, some day, with you as our boss!” +</p> +<p> +“I’m goin’ to miss you something fierce, boys,” +Mills added, taking each of them by the hand. “Tom, +I can’t never thank you proper for what you did—so +we’ll let it go at that. You’re a regular scout, and +you and Joe’ll make good whatever you do, and +Joe’ll keep as well as he is now, always.” +</p> +<p> +He turned his head suddenly away, and the boys +felt a lump in their own throats. +</p> +<p> +Then they started. +</p> +<p> +When they looked back to wave, however, he was +facing them, and they could see his pale, blue eyes—the +eyes of a woodsman—looking at them as they +went down the trail. +</p> +<p> +Opposite the entrance to their old camp, Joe +dropped the rope, and ran down the path, to the +surprise of Tom and the doctor. He came back +with their rough sign, “Camp Kent,” and stuck it +into the load. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333'></a>333</span> +</p> +<p> +“Gee, if we’d forgotten that for a souvenir!” he +cried. +</p> +<p> +Tom gave the doctor some wild rides on the +toboggan in the next two days, while Joe took the +hills on skis. They camped that night in the same +woods as before, only this time they had no tent, +only such protection as they could hastily rig up by +making a rough lean-to of evergreen boughs and +crawling under it in their sleeping-bags. Each one +took a watch to keep the fire going during the night, +and they managed to come through fairly comfortably, +though it was bitterly cold. However, they +were up long before the sun, and on their way. +</p> +<p> +The second day the boys knew they were seeing +the mountains for the last time, and as they passed +by old Rising Wolf, his red rocks buried under +glistening snow, they loitered a little on the trail and +walked with their eyes turned upward and toward +the west. +</p> +<p> +And that evening they were suddenly landed out +of the lonely snow-fields and the wilderness of rocks +and cliffs and frozen lakes, of deer and lions and +avalanches, into the hot, musty smell of a Pullman +sleeping car, on the trans-continental limited, bound +east! +</p> +<p> +They each took one sniff, and looked at one another. +</p> +<p> +Then Tom laughed. “We’ll get used to it again,” +he said. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose so,” Joe answered, “but gosh! it’s +going to be hard work.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334'></a>334</span><a name='chXXXI' id='chXXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXXI—Home Again—Joe’s Christmas Present to His Mother is Sound Health Again, and Tom Rejoices</h2> +<p> +They got to Chicago the day before Christmas, +and had time to go shopping for presents. Tom +sneaked off by himself, and returned with a mysterious +parcel, which Joe imagined was for him. +Twenty-five hours later, they were getting out of +the train at Southmead, into the arms of their parents +and brothers and sisters, and amid the cheers of +the assembled scouts. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you are certainly a hard looking pair!” +Mr. Rogers laughed. “And hard feeling, too,” he +added, poking Joe’s legs and arms. “What do you +weigh, Joe?” +</p> +<p> +“I weighed a hundred and fifty-nine in Chicago,” +Joe answered. +</p> +<p> +The next two days both boys spent telling everybody +the tales of their adventures, and Mr. Rogers +took Joe up to Dr. Meyer again, who thumped him +and listened at him as before, weighed him and +tested him, and then, with a smile, declared he was +as fit as a fiddle. +</p> +<p> +“And mind you live outdoors till you’re twenty-one, +and keep so!” he added. “And then go on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335'></a>335</span> +living outdoors if you can, till you’re a hundred and +one. It’s the only way to live, anyhow. I haven’t +been out for a week, and I know!” +</p> +<p> +“Take that news home to your mother as a +Christmas present, Joe,” said Mr. Rogers. +</p> +<p> +Then he turned to Tom. “And you, Tom, gave +the present of health to Joe. How do you like +giving instead of receiving?” +</p> +<p> +“Giving? Giving nothing!” Tom exclaimed. +“Don’t you make any mistake. I received more +pleasure seeing old Joey get fat and strong than I’ll +ever give anybody!” +</p> +<p> +“That’s what I like to hear a scout say,” Mr. +Rogers smiled, putting an arm over each boy’s +shoulder, and hanging his weight on them, to feel +how sturdy they were. Neither flinched an inch, but +stood up like hickory posts. +</p> +<p> +Joe’s Christmas present from Tom—the mysterious +bundle he bought in Chicago—was a developing +tank and all the chemicals. Joe also received from +Lucy Elkins, on Christmas day, a beautiful enlargement +of a view of Gunsight Lake and Mount Jackson, +to hang in his room. For the next few days he +and Tom toiled over the tank, developing their endless +rolls of film, and then, when these were printed, +they gave an exhibition at the scout house. +</p> +<p> +But it was several days before they went into the +woods. +</p> +<p> +“Gee, it’s too much like a prairie ’round here,” +Tom said, casting a contemplative glance at their +eighteen-hundred-foot mountain. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336'></a>336</span> +</p> +<p> +Finally, however, just before school commenced, +they put on snow-shoes, and tramped over a mean +little eight inches of snow to the top of their highest +hill, out on a ledge above the trees. Southmead +lay below them, with all its roofs and steeples gathered +in the snowy fields like a herd of cattle. The +woods were still. +</p> +<p> +“It’s not the Rockies,” said Tom, “but it’s pretty +nice at that, and we’ll get out the old rope on this +baby cliff in the spring.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s home,” said Joe, “and I’m well again, and +can go to school, and help mother, and study for the +forestry service with you, and—and—oh, Spider, +you’re the best friend a fellow ever had!” +</p> +<p> +“No,” Tom answered, “you’ve got the wrong +dope. I’ve got the best friend to be a friend to a +fellow ever had. Anyhow, Joey, we’ve given old +man tuberculosis the knock out, and had a grand +old time doing it. Let’s see if we can start a snowslide +here.” +</p> +<p> +But the snow stuck in a huckleberry bush six feet +down. +</p> +<p> +“I guess it’s old Cæsar and geometry for us,” +Tom sighed, “till we beat it for the Rockies for good +and all.” +</p> +<p> +“Geometry’s not so exciting,” Joe laughed, “but +I suppose we’ve got to have it.” +</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Boy Scouts in Glacier Park, by +Walter Prichard Eaton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOY SCOUTS IN GLACIER PARK *** + +***** This file should be named 37485-h.htm or 37485-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/4/8/37485/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from images made available by the HathiTrust +Digital Library.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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