ld be here with us."

This was the only shadow at our feast and we put it aside, taking
comfort in the thought that she was happy in a tree-embowered home,
surrounded by the abundance of a prolific garden. "Her days of travel
are over," I said, and turned to the task of making my father's outing a
shining success.

For ten days we camped with him in Yellowstone Park, moving from place
to place, in our own wagon and tent, and when we came out and he
started on his homeward way, he expressed complete satisfaction. "It has
been up to the bills," he conceded, and I could see that he was eager to
get back to Johnson's drug store, where he could discuss with Stevens
and McEldowney the action of geysers and the habits of grizzly bears, on
terms of equal information.

If he was satisfied, I was not. Insisting on showing Zulime the Cascade
Range and the Pacific Ocean, I kept on to the West. Together we viewed
Tacoma and Seattle, and from the boat on Puget Sound discovered the
Olympic Mountains springing superbly from the sea. For us Rainier
disclosed his dome above the clouds, and Lake McDonald offered its most
gorgeous sunset.

One of the points which I had found of most interest in '97 was the
Blackfoot Agency, and as we sat in our tent on the Northern shore of
Lake McDonald I gained Zulime's consent to go in there for a few days.
"The train lands us there late at night," I said, "and there is no hotel
at the station or the Agency, but we can set up our tent in a few
moments and be comfortable till morning."

To this she agreed--or perhaps I should say to this she submitted, and
at eleven o'clock the following night we found ourselves unloaded on the
platform of a lonely little station on the plain. It was a starlit
night, fortunately, and dragging our tent and bedding out on the crisp,
dry sod, we set to work. In ten minutes we had a house and bed in which
we slept comfortably till a freight train thundered by along about dawn.
Truly my artist wife was being schooled in the tactics of the trail!

At the Agency we hired a wagon and drove to the St. Mary's Lake. With a
Piegan (old Four Horns) for a guide we camped on the lower Lake, and
Zulime caught two enormous pike. At Upper St. Mary's, we set our tent
just below the dike. A "Chalet" on this spot now welcomes the tourist,
but in those days St. Mary's was a lone, and stormful mountain water
with not even a forest ranger's cabin to offer shelter. We lived in our
own ten