our way to a bivouac at timber-line at the high sources of Haskins creek, just below a promising looking cleft at the rear of Mt. Hurd. From here we hoped, with an early start, to find a lead up to the ice-field that covers the broad eastern slope of Mt. Vaux, to scale its virgin summit, and thence to find our way down to the Ice river by the glaciers sweeping southward. And all this, with numerous other unexpected details, we accomplished with perfect success, turning up at our camp in the late afternoon of our second day.
Up to that time, as far as I am aware, none but prospectors had visited this upper portion of the Ice River valley. Our camp was at the southern edge of a large meadowy glade of perhaps ten acres in extent, possibly a mile and a half above the junction of the stream from Zinc gulch and the main stream. It was a beautiful pastoral picture, with the pack horses browsing in the plentiful herbage—the more striking from its wild surroundings and the news that a grizzly bear had accorded but a surly welcome to Ross on his arrival a few hours before. Studying his plantigrade tracks in the gravel of the river bed, photographing the unfamiliar aspect of the Chancellor and other leading features of the picture, and refreshing ourselves in general idleness from the somewhat strenuous labors of the day before, we passed the forenoon, and soon after our simple dinner we set forth for the high bivouac from which we should make our attack on Goodsir the following day. To reach it, we followed a short distance down the valley, then up the eastern sloping path of an avalanche, overgrown with rank hellibore—a torrid stretch,—then over the crest of this ridge and across the torrent-washed rubble of the ravine from which spring the two great towers.
At about 7000 feet and at the very base of a spur from the southern, higher peak, near to a refreshing rill, we found two gnarled firs with ample tops, promis-
