ountain slopes, and the juniper berries
ripened, they moved to the higher, exposed wind-swept cliffs. Above
timberline were the ptarmigan, always easy targets for a well-aimed
stone.

Rabbits, grouse and ptarmigan were all available and filling, but the
most abundant and most easily caught food in all the Rockies at that
time were the mountain trout. When I was a boy, every stream, even as
far down as the plains, was alive with them. Like salmon, they swam
upstream till they came to rapids or cataracts which they could not
leap. Those in the lakes were exceptionally large, but too well fed to
be interested in my bait. In the valleys were deep pools made by
beavers' dams and in these the trout "holed up" for the winter.
Fishing through the ice was common sport years ago. I remember that
one of Jim Oss's neighbors brought a mess of trout to him when he gave
his homesteading dance in January. With fish so abundant and unwary,
and fishermen few, fishing was easy. It took me only five or ten
minutes to catch all the trout I could use. Usually a few feet of
line, a hook, and a willow or aspen rod, was all I found necessary.
Sometimes I used bait--grasshoppers, bugs or worms.

Campfire cooking is an art comparatively primitive and elementary, but
it requires experience and intelligence to master. Like most
accomplishments worth learning, it takes application, and a world of
patience. Since I did not carry any utensils with me, I invariably
roasted or broiled the game I cooked, using hot rocks like the Indians.
I heated stones in my campfire, dug a shallow hole, and when the stones
were hot lined it with them, then put in my meat, covering it with a
hot flat stone. From time to time, I renewed the cooled first stones
for fresh ones, hot from the fire. Sometimes I intensified that heat
of my "fireless" by covering its top with moss or with pine needles.

If I decided to broil my bunny or grouse, I got out my short fishing
line and tied one end of it to a limb of a tree or to a tripod which I
made by fastening three poles together, setting them over the fire.
The other end I fastened to a green stick, three or four feet long,
which I skewered into the meat. Then I gave my "broiler" a spin which
wound up the line. When it was twisted tight, it reversed itself,
unwinding, and so revolving my cookery, exposing all sides to the fire.
Of course it gradually lost its spin, then I gave it another twirl.
Given plenty of