CAMP CLOUDCREST,
September 12, 1914.

DEAR MRS. CONEY,

I find I can’t write to you as often as I at first intended; but I’ve a chance to-day, so I will not let it pass unused. We are in the last camp, right on the hunting ground, in the “midst of the fray.” We have said good-bye to dear Elizabeth, and I must tell you about her because she really comes first.

To begin with, the morning we left the Holts, Elizabeth suggested that we three women ride in the buckboard, so I seated myself on a roll of bedding in the back part. At first none of us talked; we just absorbed the wonderful green-gold beauty of the morning. The sky was clear blue, with a few fleecy clouds drifting lazily past. The mountains on one side were crested; great crags and piles of rock crowned them as far as we could see; timber grew only about halfway up. The trunks of the quaking aspens shone silvery in the early sunlight, and their leaves were shimmering gold. And the stately pines kept whispering and murmuring; it almost seemed as if they were chiding the quaking aspens for being frivolous. On the other side of the road lay the river, bordered by willows and grassy flats. There were many small lakes, and the ducks and geese were noisily enjoying themselves among the rushes and water-grasses. Beyond the river rose the forest-covered mountains, hill upon hill.

Elizabeth dressed with especial care that morning, and very pretty she looked in her neat shepherd’s plaid suit and natty little white canvas hat. Very soon she said, “I hope neither of you will misunderstand me when I tell you that if my hopes are realized I will not ride with you much longer. I never saw such a country as the West, it is so big and so beautiful, and I never saw such people. You are just like your country; you have fed me, cared for me, and befriended me, a stranger, and never asked me a word.”

Mrs. O’Shaughnessy said, “Tut, tut, ’tis nothing at all we’ve done. ’Tis a comfort you’ve been, hasn’t she, Mrs. Stewart?”

I could heartily agree; and Elizabeth went on, “The way I have been received and the way we all treated Mrs. Holt will be the greatest help to me in becoming what I hope to become, a real Westerner. I might have lived a long time in the West and not have understood many things if I had not fallen into your hands. Years ago, before I was through school, I was to have been married; but I lost my mother just then and was left the care of my paralytic father. If I had married then, I should have had to take father from his familiar surroundings, because Wallace came West in the forestry service. I felt that it wouldn’t be right. Poor father couldn’t speak, but his eyes told me how grateful he was to stay. We had our little home and father had his pension, and I was able to get a small school near us. I could take care of father and teach also. We were very comfortably situated, and in time became really happy. Although I seldom heard from Wallace, his letters were well worth waiting for, and I knew he was doing well.

“Eighteen months ago father died, gently went to sleep. I waited six months and then wrote to Wallace, but received no reply. I have written him three times and have had no word. I could bear it no longer and have come to see what has become of him. If he is dead, may I stay on with one of you and perhaps get a school? I want to live here always.”

“But, darlint,” said Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, “supposin’ it’s married your man is?”

“Wallace may have changed his mind about me, but he would not marry without telling me. If he is alive he is honorable.”

Then I asked, “Why didn’t you ask about him at Pinedale or any of these places we have passed? If he is stationed in the Bridges reserve they would be sure to know of him at any of these little places.”

“I just didn’t have the courage to. I should never have told you what I have, only I think I owe it to you, and it was easier because of the Holts. I am so glad we met them.”

So we drove along, talking together; we each assured the girl of our entire willingness to have her as a member of the family. After a while I got on to the wagon with Mr. Stewart and told him Elizabeth’s story so that he could inquire about the man. Soon we came to the crossing on Green River. Just beyond the ford we could see the game-warden’s cabin, with the stars and stripes fluttering gayly in the fresh morning breeze. We drove into the roaring, dashing water, and we held our breath until we emerged on the other side.

Mr. Sorenson is a very capable and conscientious game-warden and a very genial gentleman. He rode down to meet us, to inspect our license and to tell us about our privileges and our duties as good woodsmen. He also issues licenses in case hunters have neglected to secure them before coming. Mrs. O’Shaughnessy had refused to get a license when we did. She said she was not going to hunt; she told us we could give her a small piece of “ilk” and that would do; so we were rather surprised when she purchased two licenses, one a special, which would entitle her to a bull elk. As we were starting Mr. Stewart asked the game-warden, “Can you tell me if Wallace White is still stationed here?” “Oh, yes,” Mr. Sorenson said, “Wallace’s place is only a few miles up the river and can be plainly seen from the road.”

We drove on. Happiness had taken a new clutch upon my heart. I looked back, expecting to see Elizabeth all smiles, but if you will believe me the foolish girl was sobbing as if her heart was broken. Mrs. O’Shaughnessy drew her head down upon her shoulder and was trying to quiet her. The road along there was very rough. Staying on the wagon occupied all my attention for a while. Several miles were passed when we came in sight of a beautiful cabin, half hidden in a grove of pines beyond the river. Mr. Stewart said we might as well “noon” as soon as we came to a good place, and then he would ride across and see Mr. White.

Just as we rounded the hill a horseman came toward us. A splendid fellow he was, manly strength and grace showing in every line. The road was narrow against the hillside and he had to ride quite close, so I saw his handsome face plainly. As soon as he saw Elizabeth he sprang from his saddle and said, “’Liz’beth, ‘Liz’beth, what you doin’ here?”

She held her hands to him and said, “Oh, just riding with friends.” Then to Mrs. O’Shaughnessy she said, “This is my Wallace.”

Mr. Stewart is the queerest man: instead of letting me enjoy the tableau, he solemnly drove on, saying he would not want any one gawking at him if he were the happy man. Anyway, he couldn’t urge Chub fast enough to prevent my seeing and hearing what I’ve told you. Besides that, I saw that Elizabeth’s hat was on awry, her hair in disorder, and her eyes red. It was disappointing after she had been so careful to look nicely.

Mrs. O’Shaughnessy came trotting along and we stopped for dinner. We had just got the coffee boiling when the lovers came up, Elizabeth in the saddle, “learning to ride,” and he walking beside her holding her hand. How happy they were! The rest of us were mighty near as foolish as they. They were going to start immediately after dinner, on horseback, for the county seat, to be married. After we had eaten, Elizabeth selected a few things from her trunk, and Mr. Stewart and Mr. White drove the buckboard across the river to leave the trunk in its new home. While they were gone we helped Elizabeth to dress. All the while Mrs. O’Shaughnessy was admonishing her to name her first “girul” Mary Ellen; “or,” she said, “if yer first girul happens to be a b’y, it’s Sheridan ye’ll be callin’ him, which was me name before I was married to me man, God rest his soul.”

Dear Elizabeth, she was glad to get away, I suspect! She and her Wallace made a fine couple as they rode away in the golden September afternoon. I believe she is one happy bride that the sun shone on, if the omen has failed everywhere else.

Well, we felt powerfully reduced in numbers, but about three o’clock that afternoon we came upon Mr. Struble and Mr. Haynes waiting beside the road for us. They had come to pilot us into camp, for there would be no road soon.

Such a way as we came over! Such jolting and sliding! I begged to get off and walk; but as the whole way was carpeted by strawberry vines and there were late berries to tempt me to loiter, I had to stay on the wagon. I had no idea a wagon could be got across such places.

Mr. Struble drove for Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, and I could hear her imploring all the saints to preserve us from instant death. I kept shutting my eyes, trying not to see the terrifying places, and opening them again to see the beauty spread everywhere, until Mr. Stewart said, “It must make you nervous to ride over mountain roads. Don’t bat your eyes so fast and you’ll see more.” So then I stiffened my back and kept my eyes open, and I did see more.

It had been decided to go as far as we could with the wagons and then set camp; from there the hunters would ride horseback as far up as they could and then climb. It was almost sundown when we reached camp. All the hunters were in, and such a yowling as they set up! “Look who’s here! See who’s come!” they yelled. They went to work setting up tents and unloading wagons with a hearty good-will.

We are camped just on the edge of the pines. Back of us rises a big pine-clad mountain; our tents are set under some big trees, on a small plateau, and right below us is a valley in which grass grows knee high and little streams come from every way. Trout scurry up stream whenever we go near. We call the valley Paradise Valley because it is the horses’ paradise. And as in the early morning we can often see clouds rolling along the valley, we call our camp Cloudcrest. We have a beautiful place: it is well sheltered; there is plenty of wood, water, and feed; and, looking eastward down the valley, snow-covered, crag-topped mountains delight the eye.

The air is so bracing that we all feel equal to anything. Mr. Struble has already killed a fine “spike” elk for camp eating. We camped in a bunch, and we have camp stoves so that in case of rain or snow we can stay indoors. Just now we have a huge camp fire around which we sit in the evening, telling stories, singing, and eating nuts of the piñón pine. Then too the whole country is filled with those tiny little strawberries. We have to gather all day to get as much as we can eat, but they are delicious. Yesterday we had pie made of wild currants; there are a powerful lot of them here. There is also a little blueberry that the men say is the Rocky Mountain huckleberry. The grouse are feeding on them. Altogether this is one of the most delightful places imaginable. The men are not very anxious to begin hunting. A little delay means cooler weather for the meat. It is cool up here, but going back across the desert it will be warm for a while yet. Still, when they see elk every day it is a great temptation to try a shot.

One of the students told me Professor Glenholdt was here to get the tip-end bone of the tail of a brontosaurus. I don’t know what that is, but if it is a fossil he won’t get it, for the soil is too deep. The students are jolly, likable fellows, but they can talk of nothing but strata and formation. I heard one of them say he would be glad when some one killed a bear, as he had heard they were fine eating, having strata of fat alternating with strata of lean. Mr. Haynes is a quiet fellow, just interested in hunting. Mr. Struble is the big man of the party; he is tall and strong and we find him very pleasant company. Then there is Dr. Teschall; he is a quiet fellow with an unexpected smile. He is so reserved that I felt that he was kind of out of place among the rest until I caught his cordial smile. He is so slight that I don’t see how he will stand the hard climbing, not to mention carrying the heavy gun. They are using the largest caliber sporting guns, murderous-looking things. That is, all except Mr. Harkrudder, the picture man. He looks to be about forty years old, but whoops and laughs like he was about ten.

I don’t need to tell you of the “good mon,” do I? He is just the kind, quiet good mon that he has always been since I have known him. A young lady from a neighboring camp came over and said she had called to see our tout ensemble. Well, I’ve given you it, they, us, or we.

We didn’t need a guide, as Mr. Haynes and Mr. Struble are old-timers. We were to have had a cook, but when we reached Pinedale, where we were to have picked him up, he told Mr. Haynes he was “too tam seek in de bel,” so we had to come without him; but that is really no inconvenience, since we are all very good cooks and are all willing to help. I don’t think I shall be able to tell you of any great exploits I make with the gun. I fired one that Mr. Stewart carries, and it almost kicked my shoulder off. I am mystified about Mrs. O’Shaughnessy’s license. I know she would not shoot one of those big guns for a dozen elk; besides that, she is very tender-hearted and will never harm anything herself, although she likes to join our hunts.

I think you must be tired of this letter, so I am going to say good-night, my friend.

E. R. S.