ode
along the steep slope of a canyon for several miles, and then struck a
stream of amber-colored water. As we climbed along this we came into
deep spruce forest, where it was pleasure to ride. I saw many dells
and nooks, cool and shady, full of mossy rocks and great trees. But
flowers were scarce. We were sorry to pass the head-springs of that
stream and to go on over the divide and down into the wooded, but dry
and stony country. We rode until late, and came at last to a park
where sheep had been run. I refused to camp here, and Teague, in high
dudgeon, rode on. As it turned out I was both wise and lucky, for we
rode into a park with many branches, where there was good water and
fair grass and a pretty grove of white pines in which to pitch our
tents. I enjoyed this camp, and had a fine rest at night.

The morning broke dark and lowering. We hustled to get started before
a storm broke. It began to rain as we mounted our horses, and soon
we were in the midst of a cold rain. It blew hard. We put on our
slickers. After a short ride down through the forest we entered
Buffalo Park. This was a large park, and we lost time trying to find a
forester's trail leading out of it. At last we found one, but it soon
petered out, and we were lost in thick timber, in a driving rain, with
the cold and wind increasing. But we kept on.

This forest was deep and dark, with tremendous windfalls, and great
canyons around which we had to travel. It took us hours to ride out of
it. When we began to descend once more we struck an old lumber road.
More luck--the storm ceased, and presently we were out on an aspen
slope with a great valley beneath, and high, black peaks beyond. Below
the aspens were long swelling slopes of sage and grass, gray and
golden and green. A ranch lay in the valley, and we crossed it to
climb up a winding ravine, once more to the aspens where we camped in
the rancher's pasture. It was a cold, wet camp, but we managed to be
fairly comfortable.

The sunset was gorgeous. The mass of clouds broke and rolled.
There was exquisite golden light on the peaks, and many rose- and
violet-hued banks of cloud.

Morning found us shrouded in fog. We were late starting. About nine
the curtain of gray began to lift and break. We climbed pastures and
aspen thickets, high up to the spruce, where the grass grew luxuriant,
and the red wall of rock overhung the long slopes. The view west was
magnificent--a long, bulging range of mountai