Strange to say, he went into a rage! Blamed me for
the loss of that big trout! Under such circumstances it was always
best to maintain silence and I did so as long as I could. After his
paroxysm had spent itself and he had become somewhat near a rational
being once more he asked me:

"Was he big?"

"Oh--a whale of a trout!" I replied.

"Humph! Well, how big?"

Thereupon I enlarged upon the exceeding size and beauty of that trout.
I made him out very much bigger than he actually looked to me and I
minutely described his beauty and wonderful gaping mouth. R.C. groaned
and that was my revenge.

We returned to camp early, and I took occasion to scrape acquaintance
with the dogs. It was a strangely assorted pack--four Airedales, one
bloodhound and seven other hounds of mixed breeds. There were also
three pup hounds, white and yellow, very pretty dogs, and like all
pups, noisy and mischievous. They made friends easily. This applied
also to one of the Airedales, a dog recently presented to Teague by
some estimable old lady who had called him Kaiser and made a pet of
him. As might have been expected of a dog, even an Airedale, with that
name, he was no good. But he was very affectionate, and exceedingly
funny. When he was approached he had a trick of standing up, holding
up his forepaws in an appealing sort of way, with his head twisted in
the most absurd manner. This was when he was chained--otherwise he
would have been climbing up on anyone who gave him the chance. He was
the most jealous dog I ever saw. He could not be kept chained very
long because he always freed himself. At meal time he would slip
noiselessly behind some one and steal the first morsel he could
snatch. Bill was always rapping Kaiser with pans or billets of
firewood.

Next morning was clear and cold. We had breakfast, and then saddled up
to ride to Big Fish Lake. For an hour we rode up and down ridges of
heavy spruce, along a trail. We saw elk and deer sign. Elk tracks
appeared almost as large as cow tracks. When we left the trail to
climb into heavy timber we began to look for game. The forest was
dark, green and brown, silent as a grave. No squirrels or birds or
sign of life! We had a hard ride up and down steep slopes. A feature
was the open swaths made by avalanches. The ice and snow had cut a
path through the timber, and the young shoots of spruce were springing
up. I imagined the roar made by that tremendous slide.

We found elk tracks ever