It’s a very pleasant walk, which follows every curve and bend in the river. With many different sounds; water gently flowing around a bend or noisil... crashing over the rocks or falling from a great height to the pool below. A bright September morning was a perfect time to taste the crispness in the air, to touch and feel the age of the tress and the stories they could tell. That morning, I took the other path, the higher one, which looks down on such beauty. My intention was to walk to the top. I entered the wagon and picked up the sterilized scalpels I had made at Fort Bridger. Using an iron probe I searched for the ball. After finding it I reached in with a long nose pair of pliers and tried to grasp it. It took a half hour but I finally managed to pull it out. Reaching in again I felt around and found a small piece of buckskin in the wound. Cutting the ragged skin around the wound, I got the "whiskey" out and poured a generous amount into the wound. I bandaged it and told Louise to. More

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