P a g e 5 G h o s t T o w n s a n d H i s t o r y o f M o n t a n a N e w s l e t t e r jumps. In the afternoon we went for a long hike up a pretty mountain road. We left a kettle of beans cooking on the stove. When we got back our fire was out. Someone had raided our camp for eats. The unknown person had left the cover off the bean-kettle; and the bees had taken possession. Fran, the brave, lifted the kettle; but she had taken only a few steps when she gave a loud shriek, dropped the kettle, and ran to the stream. A bee had stung her! N. B. Don’t mention bees to Fran. It is evening now, and we are sitting around the fire singing and telling stories and fortunes. The Family Skeleton still barks. He is afraid of his own shadow but seems to think he could protect us if his protection were needed. He is no taller than a good- sized cat and much skinnier. His hair is short and white, and he has a poor excuse for a tail. But what he lacks in tail he makes up in voice. The impressive stillness of the night holds one in thrall. Nothing but the rush of the water in Roaring Brook can be heard. This only adds to the charm. Now and then we think we can see gleaming eyes a few feet away from us, and our imaginations succeed in making our hearts work double duty. We have put our fire our carefully, and Fran is hunting for the weapons to put at the head of the bed. It is quite cool these September nights. It is great to sleep out in the open with nothing but the sky and twinkling stars for a roof. September 7: This is our last evening. We had a delightful time today. We had already explored everything but Roaring Brook, and this morning we took a lunch and started out to find its source. We tried climbing up the steep mountains; but the trees and underbrush were so thick that we soon had to take to the rocks in the stream. These were not much better, They were large and slippery with pretty green moss. We were forced to crawl over them much of the time to keep from slipping off into the stream. We each took a turn at falling into the water. Even Skidoo, in leaping for another rock, tumbled into the swift little current, which almost carried him down stream. Our hearts were so touched at the sight of his struggling that Mickey waded in and rescued the yelping canine. We climbed for about three hours but seemed no nearer the source of Roaring Brook; so we called a halt and ate our lunch. As we were eating, threatening clouds began to pass over our heads; and soon it commenced to rain. The big pines sheltered us very well as we climbed over rocks and slid down the mountain side on pine needles. Nevertheless, we were drenched when we reached camp; but we were soon dried by a good campfire. September 8: We got tired waiting for the moon last night and went to bed in the dark. We had been asleep for some time when we heard Fran yelling, “ Mickey, get up! There’s a forest fire.” This startling announcement brought us all to a sitting posture. Sure enough we could see a huge blazing fire on the mountains to the southeast. It took a long time to get Mickey out of bed, but he finally crawled from under the covers. He slept with all his clothes on and, consequently, was the
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