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LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OP
CALIFORNIA
SAN DIEGO



presented to the
UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
SAN DIEGO

by



Miss Nancy Davidson




IHt UNIVtKSIIY LlbKARY

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SAN DIEGO

LA JOLLA. CALIFORNIA



Jflar? Roberts Rine(wrt



THROUGH GLACIER PARK. Illustrated.
K. Illustrated.

THE STREET OF SEVEN STARS.
THE AFTER HOUSE. Illustrated.

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
BOSTON AND NEW YORK



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

SEEING AMERICA FIRST

WITH
HOWARD EATON




THE AUTHOR



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

SEEING AMERICA FIRST

WITH

HOWARD EATON



BY



MARY ROBERTS RINEHART



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS




BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
fiftetfitie pre$ Cambridge
1916



COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY P. F. COLLIER & SON, INCORPORATED
COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY MARY ROBERTS RINEHART

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Publishtd May zqib



CONTENTS

I. THE ADVENTURERS 3

II. "FALL IN" 13

III. THE SPORTING CHANCE 21

IV. ALL IN THE GAME 35

V. " RUNNING WATER AND STILL POOLS " . 44

VI. THE CALL 51

VII. THE BLACK MARKS 63

VIII. BEARS 77

IX. DOWN THE FLATHEAD RAPIDS . 86



ILLUSTRATIONS

THE AUTHOR ...... Frontispiece

BARING CREEK, CITADEL MOUNTAIN, AND BLACKFEET
GLACIER 4

A RAINY DAY IN CAMP, SHOWING HOWARD EATON 8

HIKERS ON PIEGAN PASS 16

GOLD DOLLAR, THE AUTHOR'S BUCKSKIN HORSE . 16
EATON PARTY CLIMBING TO PIEGAN PASS . . .22

Photograph by A. J. Baker, Kalispell, Montana

EATON CAMP NEAR ALTYN MOUNTAIN . . jo

PUMPELLY'S PILLAR AND EATON PARTY . . -36

MEMBERS OF THE EATON PARTY TOBOGGANING
WITHOUT TOBOGGANS 40

Photograph by A. J. Baker

GUNSIGHT LAKE AND MOUNT JACKSON FROM FUSIL-
LADE MOUNTAIN 48

DAWSON PASS 52

PARTY CROSSING TRIPLE DIVIDE . . . .54

MOUNTAIN GOAT AND KID ON PTARMIGAN PASS . 58
Photograph by A. J. Baker

be



ILLUSTRATIONS

UPPER Two MEDICINE LAKE 66

VIEW FROM DINING-ROOM, MANY GLACIERS HOTEL 72

CUT BANK CHALETS ON CUT BANK RIVER . . 74

Photograph by Kiter Photo Company

LUNCHEON ON FLATHEAD RIVER TRIP ... 80

PHOTOGRAPHING A BEAR 80

APPISTOKI FALLS NEAR Two MEDICINE CHALETS 88



THROUGH GLACIER PARK



FOREWORD

There are many to whom new places are
only new pictures. But, after much wandering,
this thing I have learned, and I wish I had
learned it sooner: that travel is a matter, not
only of seeing, but of doing.

It is much more than that. It is a matter of
new human contacts. It is not of places, but
of people. What are regions but the setting for
life? The desert, without its Arabs, is but the
place that God forgot.

To travel, then, is to do, not only to see. To
travel best is to be of the sportsmen of the road.
To take a chance, and win; to feel the glow of
muscles too long unused; to sleep on the ground
at night and find it soft; to eat, not because it is
time to eat, but because one's body is clamoring
for food; to drink where every stream and river
is pure and cold; to get close to the earth and
see the stars this is travel.



THROUGH GLACIER PARK



THE ADVENTURERS

THIS is about a three-hundred mile trip
across the Rocky Mountains on horseback
with Howard Eaton. It is about fishing,
and cool nights around a camp-fire, and
long days on the trail. It is about a party
of all sorts, from everywhere, of men and
women, old and young, experienced folk and
novices, who had yielded to a desire to be-
long to the sportsmen of the road. And it is
by way of being advice also. Your true
convert must always preach.

If you are normal and philosophical; if
you love your country; if you like bacon, or
will eat it anyhow; if you are willing to learn
how little you count in the eternal scheme
of things ; if you are prepared, for the first

3



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

day or two, to be able to locate every muscle
in your body and a few extra ones that
seem to have crept in and are crowding, go
ride in the Rocky Mountains and save your
soul.

If you are of the sort that must have
fresh cream in its coffee, and its steak rare,
and puts its hair up in curlers at night, and
likes to talk gossip in great empty places,
don't go. Don't read this. Sit in a moving-
picture theater and do your traveling.

But if you go !

It will not matter that you have never
ridden before. The horses are safe and quiet.
The Western saddle is designed to keep a
cow-puncher in his seat when his rope is
around an infuriated steer. Fall off! For
the first day or two, dear traveler, you will
have to be extracted! After that you will
learn that swing of the right leg which clears
the saddle, the slicker, a camera, night-
clothing, soap, towel, toothbrush, blanket,
4



THE ADVENTURERS

sweater, fishing-rod, fly-hook, comb, extra
boots, and sunburn lotion, and enables you
to alight in a vertical position and without
jarring your spine up into your skull.

Now and then the United States Govern-
ment does a very wicked thing. Its treat-
ment of the Indians, for instance, and espe-
cially of the Blackfeet, in Montana. But
that's another story. The point is that, to
offset these lapses, there are occasional
Government idealisms. Our National Parks
are the expression of such an ideal.

I object to the word "park," especially
in connection with the particular National
Reserve in northwestern Montana known
as Glacier Park. A park is a civilized spot,
connected in all our minds with neat paths
and clipped lawns. I am just old enough
to remember when it meant "Keep-Off-
the-Grass" signs also, and my childhood
memories of the only park I knew are
inseparably connected with a one-armed
5



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

policeman with a cane and an exaggerated
sense of duty.

There are no "Keep-Off-the-Grass" signs
in Glacier Park, no graveled paths and
clipped lawns. It is the wildest part of
America. If the Government had not pre-
served it, it would have preserved itself.
No homesteader would ever have invaded
its rugged magnificence or dared its winter
snows. But you and I would not have seen it.

True, so far most niggardly provision has
been made. The Government offices are a
two-roomed wooden cabin. The national
warehouse is a barn. To keep it up, to build
trails and roads, to give fire protection for
its fourteen hundred square miles of great
forest, with many millions of dollars worth of
timber, are provided thirteen rangers ! Thir-
teen rangers, and an annual allowance less
than half of what is given to Yellowstone
Park, with this difference, too, that Yel-
lowstone Park has had money spent on it
6



THE ADVENTURERS

for thirty-two years while Glacier Park is
in the making! It is one of the merry lit-
tle jests we put over now and then. For
seventy-five miles in the north of the park
there is no ranger. Government property,
you see, and no protection.

But no niggardliness on the part of the
Government can cloud the ideal which is
the raison d'etre for Glacier Park. Here is the
last stand of the Rocky Mountain sheep,
the Rocky Mountain goat. Here are ante-
lope and deer, black and grizzly bears, moun-
tain lions, trout well, we are coming to
the trout. Here are trails that follow the
old game trails along the mountain-side;
here are meadows of June roses, true forget-
me-nots, larkspur, Indian paintbrush, fire-
weed, that first plant to grow after forest
fires, a thousand sorts of flowers, grow-
ing beside snow-fields. Here are ice and
blazing sun, vile roads, and trails of a
beauty to make you gasp.
7



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

A congressional committee went out to
Glacier Park in 1914 and three of their
machines went into the ditch. They went
home and voted a little money for roads
after that, out of gratitude for their lives.
But they will have to vote more money,
much more money, for roads. A Govern-
ment mountain reserve without plenty of
roads is as valuable as an automobile with-
out gasoline.

Nevertheless, bad roads or good or
none, thirteen rangers or a thousand,
seen from an automobile or from a horse,
Glacier Park is a good place to visit.
Howard Eaton thinks so. Last July, with
all of the West to draw from, he took his
first party through Glacier. This year in
June, with his outfit on a pack-horse, he is
going to investigate some new trails and in
July he will take a party of riders over
them.

Forty-two people set out with Howard
8




u ~



> s



THE ADVENTURERS

Eaton last summer to ride through Glacier
Park. They were of every age, weight, and
temperament. About half were women. But
one thing they had in common the phi-
losophy of true adventure.

Howard Eaton is extremely young. He
was born quite a number of years ago, but
what is that ? He is a boy, and he takes an
annual frolic. And, because it means a
cracking good time, he takes people with
him and puts horses under them and the
fear of God in their hearts, and bacon and
many other things, including beans, in their
stomachs.

He has taken foreign princes and many of
the great people of the earth to the tops of
high mountains, and shown them grizzly
bears, and their own insignificance, at one
and the same time. He is a hunter, a sports-
man, and a splendid gentleman. And, be-
cause equipment is always a matter of much
solicitude on the part of the novice, I shall
9



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

tell you what he wears when, on his big
horse, he leads his long line of riders over
the trails. He wears a pair of serviceable
trousers, a blue shirt, and a vest ! Worn by
Howard Eaton, believe me, they are real
clothes. He has hunted along the Rockies
from Alaska to Mexico. He probably
knows Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho as
well as any man in the country.

When Howard Eaton first went West he
located in the Bad Lands. Those were the
"buffalo "days, and it was then that he
began taking his friends with him on hunt-
ing trips. At first they went as his guests.
Even now they are his guests in the truest
sense of the word.

By their own insistence, as the parties
grew larger, they determined to help defray
the cost of the expeditions. Every one who
knows Howard Eaton knows that his trips
are not made for profit. Probably they
barely pay for themselves. Jt is impossible
10



THE ADVENTURERS

to talk to him about money. Save as a
medium of exchange it does not exist for
him. Life for him is twenty-four hours in
the open air, half of that time in the
saddle, long vistas, the trail of game, the
camp-fire at night, and a few hours of quiet
sleep under the stars.

Roosevelt's ranch was near the Eaton
ranch when it was in the Bad Lands. Roose-
velt and Howard Eaton have taken many
hunting trips together. Titled foreigners of
all sorts have come over and hunted elk,
deer, and other game with him. He has
supplied museums, parks, and animal shows
in every part of America with game. He
was and is a crack shot, of course. He says
he always treated the Indians with respect.
"I was always a little shy when Indians
were in the same country with me, and once
when hunting I retired so fast that the boys
said I beat my shadow six miles in fifteen
minutes."

ii



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

In those days the town of Sentinel Butte
consisted of a canvas saloon with the sign :

REV. C. A. DUFFY
Best Wines, Liquors, and Cigars

"I had a fine chance to steal that sign
once," says Howard Eaton, "but some folks
are fools, and I overlooked a bet."

The Eaton "boys " for there are three
left Pittsburg and went West many years
ago. Howard was the first. He went in
1879. In 1884 Theodore Roosevelt went
out to the same country. It was in 1904
when the Eatons left the Bad Lands and
went toward the Big Horn Mountain.
There, at the foot of Wolf Creek and in the
center of the historic battle-ground of the
Arapahoes, Sioux, Crows, and Cheyennes,
they established a new ranch at Wolf,
Wyoming.



II

"FALL IN"

THE rendezvous for the Eaton party last
summer was at Glacier Park Station on the
Great Northern Railway. Getting to that
point, remote as it seemed, had been
surprisingly easy almost disappointingly
easy. Was this, then, going to the border-
land of civilization, to the last stronghold of
the old West ? Over the flat country, with
inquiring prairie dogs sitting up to inspect
us, the train of heavy Pullman diners and
club car moved steadily toward the purple
drop-curtain of the mountains. West, al-
ways west.

Now and then we stopped, and passengers
got on. They brought with them something
new, rather electric. It was enthusiasm.
The rest, who had been Eastern and greatly

13



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

bored, roused and looked out of the win-
dows. For the newcomers were telling fairy
tales, with wheat for gold and farmers for
princes, and backing everything with fig-
ures. They think in bushels over rather a
large part of America to-day.

West. Still west. An occasional cowboy
silhouetted against the sky; thin range cat-
tle; impassive Indians watching the train
go by; a sawmill, and not a tree in sight
over a vast horizon! Red raspberries as
large as strawberries served in the diner,
and trout from the mountains that seemed
no nearer by mid-day than at dawn !

Then, at last, at twilight, Glacier Park
Station, and Howard Eaton on the platform,
and old Chief Three Bears, of the Black-
feet, wonderfully dressed and preserved at
ninety-three.

It was rather a picturesque party. Those
who had gone up from the Eaton ranch in
Wyoming a trifle of seven hundred miles



FALL IN

wore their riding-clothes to save luggage.
Khaki was the rule, the women mostly in
breeches and long coats, with high-laced
shoes reaching to the knee and soft felt hats,
the men in riding-clothes, with sombreros
and brilliant bandannas knotted about their
throats. One or two had rather overdone
the part and were the objects of good-na-
tured chaffing later on by the guides and
cowboys.

"Hi!" cried an urchin as we walked
about the streets of Billings, Montana, to
stretch train-tired muscles. "Here's the
101 Ranch!"

Not very long before I had been to the
front in Belgium and in France. I confess
that no excursion to the trenches gave me
a greater thrill than the one that accom-
panied that start the next morning from
the Glacier Park Hotel to cross the Conti-
nental Divide. For we were going to cross
the Rockies. Our route was three hundred



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

miles long. It was over six passes, and if
you believe, as I did, that a pass is a valley
between two mountains, I am here to set
you right.

A pass is a bloodcurdling spot up which
one's horse climbs like a goat and down the
other side of which it slides as you lead it,
trampling ever and anon on a tender part
of your foot. A pass is the highest place
between two peaks. A pass is not an open-
ing, but a barrier which you climb with
chills and descend with prayer. A pass is a
thing which you try to forget at the time
and which you boast about when you get
back home. For I have made it clear, I
think, that a horseback trip through Glacier
Park, across the Rockies, and down the Pa-
cific Slope, is a sporting proposition. It is
safe enough. Howard Eaton has never had
an accident. But there are times -

Once, having left the party to make a
side trip, my precious buckskin horse
16




HIKERS ON PIEGAN PASS




GOLD DOLLAR, THE AUTHOR'S BUCKSKIN HORSE



FALL IN

called "Gold Dollar" was "packed"
over. Now, Gold Dollar was a real horse
with a beard. He was not a handsome horse.
Even when I was on him, no one would have
turned to admire. But he was a strong horse,
and on a trail up a switchback do you
know what a switchback is ? well, a moun-
tain switchback bears about as much rela-
tion to the home-grown amusement-park
variety as a stepmother to the real thing
on a switchback he was well-behaved.
He hugged the inside of the trail, and never
tried to reach over the edge, with a half-mile
drop below, to crop grass. He was not reck-
less. He was a safe and sane horse. He never
cared for me, but that is beside the question.
So, having temporarily left Gold Dollar,
I had to get back to him. I had to go fifty
miles to do it, and I was provided with a
horse by the man who holds the horse con-
cession in the park. A horse ? A death-trap,
a walking calamity, a menace. If the com-



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

panics who carry my life insurance had
seen me on that horse, they would have gone
pale. He was a white horse, and he was a
pack-horse. Now, the way of a pack-horse is
on the edge of the grave. Because of his
pack he walks always at the outer side of
the trail. If his pack should happen to hit
the rocky wall, many unpleasant things
would follow, including buzzards. So this
beast, this creature, this steed of death,
walked on the edge of the precipice. He
counted that moment lost that saw not two
feet dangling blithely over the verge. Now
and then the verge crumbled. We dis-
lodged large stones that fell for a mile or
two, with a sickening thud. Once we crossed
a snow-field which was tilted. He kept one
foot on the trail and gave the other three a
chance to take a slide. There was a man
riding behind me. When it was all over, he
shook my hand.

Off, then, to cross the Rocky Mountains
18



FALL IN

forty-two of us, and two wagons which
had started early to go by road to the first
camp: cowboys in chaps and jingling spurs;
timorous women, who eyed rather askance
the blue and purple mountains back of the
hotel; automobile tourists, partly curious
and partly envious ; the inevitable photog-
rapher, for whom we lined up in a semi-
circle, each one trying to look as if starting
off on such a trip was one of the easiest
things we did ; and over all the bright sun, a
breeze from the mountains, and a sense of
such exhilaration as only altitude and the
West can bring.

Then a signal to fall in. For a mile or
two we went two abreast, past a village of
Indian tepees, past meadows scarlet with
the Indian paintbrush, past with con-
descension automobile busses loaded with
tourists who craned and watched. Then
to the left, and off the road. The cowboys
and guides were watching us. As we strung

19



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

out along the trail, they rode back and for-
ward, inspecting saddles, examining stirrups,
seeing that all were comfortable and safe.
For even that first day we were to cross
Mount Henry, and there must be no danger
of saddle slipping.

Quite without warning we plunged into
a rocky defile, with a small river falling in
cascades. The shadow of the mountain
enveloped us. The horses forded the stream
and moved sedately on.

Did you ever ford a mountain stream on
horseback? Do it. Ride out of the hot sun
into a brawling valley. Watch your horse
as he feels his way across, the stream eddy-
ing about his legs. Give him his head and
let him drink lightly, skimming the very sur-
face of the water with his delicate nostrils.
Lean down and fill your own cup. How cold
it is, and how clear! Uncontaminated it
flows down from the snow-covered moun-
tains overhead. It is living.



Ill

THE SPORTING CHANCE

THE trail began to rise to the tree-covered
"bench." It twisted as it rose. Those
above called cheerfully to those below. We
had settled to the sedate walk of our horses,
the pace which was to take us over our long
itinerary. Hardly ever was it possible, dur-
ing the days that followed, to go faster than
a walk. The narrow, twisting trails forbade
it. Now and then a few adventurous spirits,
sighting a meadow, would hold back until
the others had got well ahead, and then push
their horses to the easy Western lope. But
such joyous occasions were rare.

Up and up. The trail was safe, the grade

easy. At the edge of the bench we turned

and looked back. The great hotel lay below

in the sunlight. Leading to it were the

21



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

gleaming rails of the Great Northern Rail-
way. We turned our horses and went on
toward the snow-covered peaks ahead.

The horses moved quietly, one behind
the other. As the trail rose there were occa-
sional stops to rest them. Women who had
hardly dared to look out of a third-story
window found themselves on a bit of rocky
shelf, with the tops of the tallest trees far
below. The earth, as we had known it, was
falling back. And, high overhead, Howard
Eaton, at the head of the procession, was
sitting on his big horse silhouetted against
the sky.

The first day was to be an easy one
twelve miles and camp. "Twelve miles!"
said the experienced riders. "Hardly a Sun-
day morning canter!" But a mountain
mile is a real mile. Possibly they measure
from peak to peak. I do not know. I do
know that we were almost six hours making
that twelve miles and that for four of it we
22



THE SPORTING CHANCE

led our horses down a mountain-side over a
vacillating path of shale. Knees, that up
to that point had been fairly serviceable,
took to chattering. Riding-boots ceased to
be a matter of pride and emerged skinned
and broken. The horses slid and stumbled.
And luncheon receded.

Down and down ! Great granite cliffs of
red and blue and yellow across the valley
and no luncheon! Striped squirrels hiding
in the shale and no luncheon ! A great
glow of moving blood through long-stag-
nant vessels, deep breaths of clear moun-
tain air, a camera dropped on the trail, a
stone in a horse's foot and no luncheon !

Two o'clock, and we were down. The
nervous woman who had never been on a
horse before was cinching her own saddle
and looking back and up. The saddle
tightened, she sat down and emptied her
riding-boots of a few pieces of rock. Her
silk stockings were in tatters.

23



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

"I feel as though my knees will never
meet again," she said reflectively. "But
I'm so swollen with pride and joy that I
could shriek."

That's what it is, partly. A sense of
achievement; of conquering the uncon-
querable; of pitting human wits against
giants and winning a sporting chance.
You may climb peaks in a railroad coach
and see things as wonderful. But you are
doing this thing yourself. Every mite is an
achievement. And, after all, it is miracu-
lously easy. The trails are good. The
horses are steady and sure-footed. It is
a triumph of endurance rather than of
courage.

If you have got this far, you are one of
us, and you will go on. For the lure of the
high places is in your blood. The call of the
mountains is a real call. The veneer, after
all, is so thin. Throw off the impedimenta
of civilization, the telephones, the silly con-

24



THE SPORTING CHANCE

ventions, the lies that pass for truth. Go
out to the West. Ride slowly, not to startle
the wild things. Throw out your chest and
breathe; look across green valleys to wild
peaks where mountain sheep stand impas-
sive on the edge of space. Let the summer
rains fall on your upturned face and wash
away the memory of all that is false and
petty and cruel. Then the mountains will
get you. You will go back. The cajl is a
real call.

Above the timber-line we rode along bare
granite slopes. Erosion had been busy here.
The mighty winds that sweep the crests of
the Rockies had bared the mountains'
breasts. Beside the trails high cairns of
stones were piled, so that during the winter
snow the rangers might find their way about.
Remember, this is northwestern Montana;
the Canadian border is only a few miles
away, and over these peaks sweeps the full
force of the great blizzards of the Northwest.

25



THROUGH GLACIER PARK

The rangers keep going all winter. There
is much to be done. In the summer it is
forest fires and outlaws. In the winter there
are no forest fires, but there are poachers
after mountain sheep and goats, opium
smugglers, bad men from over the Canadian
border. Now and then a ranger freezes to
death. All summer these intrepid men on
their sturdy horses go about armed with
revolvers. But in the fall snow begins
early in September, sometimes even in Au-
gust they take to snowshoes. With a car-
bine strung to his shoulders, matches in a
waterproof case, snowshoes and a package
of food in his pocket, the Glacier Park
ranger covers unnumbered miles, patrolling
the wildest and most storm-ridden country
in America. He travels alone. The imprint
of a strange snowshoe on the trail rouses
his suspicion. Single-handed he follows the
marks in the snow. A blizzard comes. He
makes a wikiup of branches, lights a small
26



THE SPORTING CHANCE

fire, and plays solitaire until the weather
clears. The prey he is stalking cannot ad-
vance either. Then one day the snow ceases ;
the sun comes out. Over the frozen crust
his snowshoes slide down great slopes with
express speed. Generally he takes his man


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