Wild Roses A Tale of the Rockies

 SOME unpoetic old frontiersman first called the place a trapper’s “hole,”—an ugly, misleading name for this wondrous mountain valley, lying up there on the western slopes of the Continental Divide next to the Yellowstone country, almost surrounded by a rim of craggy, snow-streaked mountains, and grassy, wooded hills, out of whose picturesque canyons streams came leaping and sparkling to make a silvery network over the valley floor and to combine at last into the beautiful river that winds along the base of the western hills.