a cook to
find on a biting cold morning, that there is not one thing in the house
that can be prepared for breakfast until it has passed through the
thawing process; that even the water in the barrels has become solid,
round pieces of ice! All along the roof of one side of our house are
immense icicles that almost touch the snow on the ground. These are a
reminder of the last chinook!

But only last week it was quite pleasant--not real summery, but warm
enough for one to go about in safety. Faye came down from the saw-mill
one of those days to see the commanding officer about something and to
get the mail. When he was about to start back, in fact, was telling me
good-by, I happened to say that I wished I could go, too. Faye said:
"You could not stand the exposure, but you might wear my little fur
coat" Suggesting the coat was a give-in that I at once took advantage
of, and in precisely twenty minutes Charlie, our Chinese cook, had been
told what to do, a few articles of clothing wrapped and strapped, and
I on Bettie's back ready for the wilds. An old soldier on a big corral
horse was our only escort, and to his saddle were fastened our various
bags and bundles.

Far up a narrow valley that lies in between two mountain ranges, the
government has a saw-mill that is worked by twenty or more soldiers
under the supervision of an officer, where lumber can be cut when needed
for the post. One of these ranges is very high, and Mount Bridger, first
of the range and nearest Fort Ellis, along whose base we had to go, has
snow on its top most of the year. Often when wind is not noticeable at
the post, we can see the light snow being blown with terrific force
from the peak of this mountain for hundreds of yards in a perfectly
horizontal line, when it will spread out and fall in a magnificent spray
another two or three hundred feet.

The mill is sixteen miles from Fort Ellis, and the snow was very
deep--so deep in places that the horses had difficulty in getting their
feet forward, and as we got farther up, the valley narrowed into a
ravine where the snow was even deeper. There was no road or even trail
to be seen; the bark on trees had been cut to mark the way, but far
astray we could not have gone unless we had deliberately ridden up the
side of a mountain. The only thing that resembled a house along the
sixteen miles was a deserted cabin about half way up, and which only
accentuated the awful loneliness.

Bettie had been sta