Mollie Adams Diary of her Journey in the Canadian Rockies, September 15, 1908

Moss Camp.
Tuesday, Sept. 15.
               Heavy rain in the night, continuing more moderately most of the day.  2½ hrs. to Graveyard Camp.  When we got out on the flats after the last bit thro the woods, there, a few hundred yards to the left of the high rock bluff where the trail comes out, stood a teepee large as life and twice as natural with smoke coming out at the top.  We did not see it till we had got way past it down the flat and across the river, and then of course, almost discolated [sic] our necks staring at it, but no other sign of life appeared except the smoke.  There was much conjecturing as to who it might be.  Indians – was the first thought naturally, but then they would hardly dare hunt out of season in one of the main valleys like this, where the game wardens are so much stricter than they seem to be in the Ath country.  Or it might be a Brewster outfit – they sometimes use a teepee.  Altho we were not very keen about either Indians or Brewsters, W. took Blue Peter late in the P. M. to ride up and see who it was, after having found out that there were no fish in the creek.  U. brought us most of the news, however, long before W. came back.  He had been to J. S’s. shack and saw one of the outfit come riding down from the West Branch.  He thought it was an Indian at first as he was wearing a blanket coat, brass studded belt, etc., but soon saw that was impossible, as the individual came quite close before he was aware of U’s. presence at all, and both of them right out on the open flat.  It was only an innocent young tenderfoot sport, who had got into the clutches of Brewster Bros. and been outfitted for all he was worth.  He was out to Fortress Lake last year, with J. Brewster, in connection with the timber deal.  This year he and two others of his kind – somebody Reid “the great baseball player” – are out here loose with no one to take care of them, going to Fortress Lake they said.  U. gleaned various bits of news – Tom Wilson is laid up with a sprained ankle at Banff, John at the Plains.  The Indians at the Plains however, have all been put back on the reserve at Morley, the game wardens came out and almost scared them to pieces, arrested them for hunting out of season and ran them all in – etc. etc.  W. stayed up there to supper, and brought off a horse deal with them – sold them Fox, and just at dark two of them came down with W. and fetched Fox away.  So poor old Fox has to go back over that bad trail again.
               Aneroid at Graveyard Camp varying from 5050 to 4900.


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