when, with Mr. Edward Whymper's party, three years previously, an unsuccessful effort had been made to reach the summit of Mt. Ball, declared it to be the better mountain.
All this could have, of course, but one ending. The journey to Glacier was abandoned, and before the afternoon of June 2nd was far advanced, a little pack train of four horses was on the trail from Banff to Castle Mountain station, where, alighting from the train early next monring, we found it awaiting our arrival.
While the packs were being adjusted, the guides found a man—Joe Smith—to ferry them over the Bow river, and at once started off, agreeing to meet the ponies on the trail not far from the mouth of Little Vermilion creek. This proved a fortunate arrangement, for the water at the ford was so deep that the horses had to swim, and on account of the swift current they could carry only light packs. Two crossings had to be made before our small amount of impedimenta, the packer and myself were safely landed on the opposite bank.
The trail to Vermilion pass lay along the north side of Little Vermilion creek, and was frequently intersected by timber roads leading to the camps long ago deserted, though doubtless busy enough in the days when ties and bridge timbers were being secured for the construction of the railway.
A bridge in fair repair, about five miles from its mouth, made easy the crossing of the turbulent creek. Between the bridge and the pass we followed the shore of a little lake which, our packer assured us, could always be relied upon to yield a fair basket of trout.
A good deal of snow was encountered in the pass, and the ponies which had not been halted for a midday feed and rest, gave evidence that the work was telling on them. Once well over the summit, however, the
