"Try it," said Uncle Dick, whittling himself a little fork out of a willow branch. And very soon Billy also was a believer that the 'old way' of the Arctic Indians is about the best way to cook a fish. Now, having appeased their hunger, they saddled again and made their way slowly to the ranch of Mrs. Culver at the Picnic Spring, as the place was called--in time for Jesse and John each to catch a brace of great trout before dusk had come. They now were all willing to vote their experience of the past two days to be about the pleasantest and most satisfying of any of the trip, which now they felt had drawn to a natural close. That evening they all, including their sprightly hostess, bent late over the table, covered with maps and books. "I surely will be sorry to see you leave," said the quaint little woman of the high country. "It's not often I see many who know any history of the big river, or who care for it. But now I can see that you all surely do. You know it, and you love it, too." "If you know it well, you can't well help loving it, I reckon," said Billy Williams. CHAPTER XXX SPORTING PLANS "Let's see, Rob--what day of the month is this?" began John, the following morning, when, their bills for the horses and themselves all discharged and their motor car purring at the gate, they bade farewell to their interesting friend and prepared to head eastward once more. "Well," said Rob, "we were at the Three Forks on July 27th, and we spent a week getting to the Shoshoni Cove--that's August 4th; and we left on August 5th, and got to Monida August 6th, and came here that day; and day before yesterday was the 7th, and we came down the mountain yesterday, the 8th; this must be about August 9th, I suppose." "That's right," said Uncle Dick; "giving us a full week or even more if we want it, to explore the Madison Fork, which is another head of the big river. Then we'll wind up on the Gallatin head, at Billy's place, and figure there what we want to do next. We might well stop at the head of Henry's Lake, and in a day or so we'll pick up Billy's car there and be on our way, with a camp outfit of our own again." Their journey over the clean, hard road around the rim of the wide Alaska Basin was one of delight. They sped down the farther slope of the Red Rock Pass, along the bright waters of Duck Creek, until early in the afternoon they raised the wide and pleasing view of Henry's Lake, one of the most beautiful valleys of the Rockies. Around this the road led them comfortably enough to the cluster of log cabins and tents which was now to make their next stopping place. Here they sent back the Monida car, whose driver said he could make the Picnic Creek camp by nightfall if he drove hard. Soon they all were made comfortable in the cabins of this "dude ranch," as the Western people call any place where tourists are taken in for pay.