search for a
lame wild duck that had spurned the offer of a good home with
civilized ducklings, and had taken to the sage-brush. Mrs. Holmes'
love of wild animals, however, failed to include the bald-headed eagle
that had shown such an appetite for her spring chickens.

A few miles below this ranch we passed Bridger Crossing, a ford on an
old trail through southern Wyoming. In pioneer days Jim Bridger's home
was on this very spot. But those romantic days are long since past;
and where this world-famous scout once watched through the loopholes
of his barricade, was an amazed youngster ten or eleven years old who
gazed on us, then ran to the cabin and emerged with a rifle in his
hands. We thought little of this incident at the time, but later we
met the father of the boy and were told that the children had been
left alone with the small boy as their only protector, and that he
stood ready to defend the home against any possible marauders. No
doubt we looked bad enough to him.

Just below the ford the channel widened, and the river became very
shallow, the low rolling hills falling away into a wide green prairie.
We camped that night on a small island, low and treeless, but covered
with deep, rank grass. Next morning our sleeping-bags were wet with
frost and dew. A hard pull against a heavy wind between gradually
deepening rocky banks made us more than glad to pitch camp at noon a
short distance above the mouth of Henry's Fork, a considerable stream
flowing from the west. In the afternoon Emery and I decided to walk to
Linwood, lying just across the Utah line, four miles up Henry's Fork.
Jimmy preferred to remain with the boats.

Between the river and a low mesa lay a large ranch of a different
appearance from those others which we had passed. Those past were
cattle ranches, with stock on the open range, and with little ground
fit for cultivation, owing to the elevation. Here we found great,
broad acres, fenced and cultivated, with thoroughbred stock--horses
and cattle--contentedly grazing.

This pastoral scene, with a background of rugged mountains, appealed
strongly to our photographic instincts. After three or four exposures,
we climbed the farthest fence and passing from alfalfa to sage-brush
in one step, were at the foot of the mesa.

Climbing to the summit, we beheld the village in the distance, in a
beautiful green valley--a splendid example of Mormon irrigation and
farming methods. Linwood proved to be the ma