pounds. I've caught lots of
steelheads there of six and seven pounds, and 'Dollies' as big, and
natives up to ten pounds--there is no place in the West where all these
species get such weights.

"They call the place now 'Lil Culver's ranch.' She is held in a good
deal of affection by the sportsmen who have come there from all over the
country. She is now a little bit of an old lady, sprightly as a cricket,
and very bright and well educated. She was from New England, once, and
came away out here. She's a fine botanist and she used to have books and
a lot of things. Lives there all alone in a little three-room log house
right by the big spring. And she's the first woman to see the head of
the Missouri. Her husband was the first man. That looks sort of like
headquarters, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does!" said Rob. "Let's head in there. What do you say,
Uncle Dick?"

"It looks all right to me," said Uncle Dick. "That's right on our way,
and it's close, historically and topographically, to the utmost source.
You surely have a good head, Billy, and you surely do know all this
country of the Big Bend."

"I ought to," said Billy. "Well, then suppose we call that a go? We can
fish on the spring creek, and live at Lil Culver's place; you can drive
right there with a car. Then the mail road runs right on east, past the
foot of Jefferson Mountain and over the Red Rock Pass--Centennial Pass,
some call it--to Henry's Lake. All the fishing you want over there--the
easiest in the world--but only one kind of trout--natives--and they
taste muddy now, at low water. Too easy for fun, you'll say.

"But at the head of Henry's Lake is a ranch house, what they call a
'dude place.' I know the owner well; he's right on the motor road from
Salt Lake to Helena and Butte, and just above the road that crosses the
Targhee Pass, east of Henry's Lake, to the Yellowstone Park.

"Now, Henry's Lake was named after Andrew Henry, who was chased south
from the Three Forks by the Blackfeet. Just north of there is the low
divide called Raynold's Pass, after Captain Raynolds, a government
explorer, about 1872. Suppose we kept our Monida car that far, and then
sent it back home? Then I could telegraph my folks to send my own car
down there from my ranch, to meet us there at the head of Henry's Lake,
say one week from now; that'll give us time to run the river up, easy.

"Then we'd have my car to run across Targhee, to the South Fork of the
Madison--anot