Mollie Adams Diary of her Journey in the Canadian Rockies, August 9, 1908

Henry House Camp.
Sunday, Aug. 9.
               Waked up to hear thunder and rain on the tent – small and vary local showers.  M. and I presently rose up in our bags and sat looking at each other.  We thought we heard a voice!  It sounded like a man calling from a distance, with his voice pitched high to make it carry far.  We heard it three times, and not hearing anyone come running out from the other tent, M. put on her (my) shoes and crawled out under the bug net with the field glasses.  Presently I heard her call to W. and ask him if he heard someone shouting – and a scornful voice “naw – it’s only a coyote.”  So we tried to go to sleep again, feeling rather small, but it did not sound like the coyotes I heard in New Mexico, and M. had never heard one before.  After breakfast W. and U. went off on a chopping bout up to the canyon and M. and I got busy in the kitchen where we are not allowed on pain of death when the professor is there.  We made a bannock first; could not remember how much flour to start with, and it turned out rather thin and meagre.  M. said it looked just like me.  Cake came next, and codfish balls sandwiched in between.  The cake had to be a simple fruit cake, as we failed to find the spice, and was made with graham flour.  Currants, apricots, prunes and figs all went into it, also bacon fat the size of an egg, and sugar; and the result was very good, inspite of the fact that it fell to pieces when we took it out of the pan, and had to be pieced together like a Chinese puzzle.  We cached the codfish balls, all made up ready to fry, in a tree; took the reflector down to the river and gave it a little polish, as we suspected it’s complexion had suffered during our efforts.  Then had lunch and had just got everything cleared up when W. and U. came back.  They had found an easier way around a windfall than they had hoped for, and said we could move to the head of the canyon tomorrow.  A much cooler day than yesterday, and strong wind keeping the flies away.  The horses spent the day away up back of the camp somewhere, all came running down in a procession for a drink in the middle of the day, and stood sleeping for a while by the river before they ambled back again.  They usually arrange themselves carefully in groups sardine fashion, then as all their tails wave regularly to and fro without stopping, each one gets the flies brushed off his nose free of charge.  Nibs and Bugler have struck up a great friendship with Dandy since he has been promoted to be a saddle horse, which seems a snobbish thing for them to do, but the three of them can be found together as thick as thieves now.  I made a special effort and dressed for supper by turning my necktie wrong side out.

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