And the trout are perfect, too, but the manner in which we get them this frozen-up weather is not sportsmanlike. There is a fine trout stream just outside the post which is frozen over now, but when we wish a few nice trout for dinner or breakfast. Cagey and I go down, and with a hatchet he will cut a hole in the ice through which I fish, and usually catch all we want in a few minutes. The fish seem to be hungry and rise quickly to almost any kind of bait except flies. They seem to know that this is not the fly season. The trout are not very large, about eight and ten inches long, but they are delicate in flavor and very delicious.
Cagey is not a wonderful cook, but he does very well, and I think that I would much prefer him to a Chinaman, judging from what I have seen of them here. Mrs. Conrad, wife of Captain Conrad, of the —th Infantry, had one who was an excellent servant in every way except in the manner of doing the laundry work. He persisted in putting the soiled linen in the boiler right from the basket, and no amount of talk on the part of Mrs. Conrad could induce him to do otherwise. Monday morning Mrs. Conrad went to the kitchen and told him once more that he must look the linen over, and rub it with plenty of water and soap before boiling it. The heathen looked at her with a grin and said, "Allee light, you no likee my washee, you washee yousel'," and lifting the boiler from the stove he emptied its entire steaming contents out upon the floor! He then went to his own room, gathered up his few clothes and bedding, and started off. He knew full well that if he did not leave the reservation at once he would be put off after such a performance.
CAMP BAKER, MONTANA TERRITORY, February, 1878.
HOME seems very cozy and attractive after the mountains of snow and ice we crossed and re-crossed on our little trip to Helena. The bitter cold of those canons will long be remembered. But it was a delightful change from the monotonous life in this out-of-the-way garrison, even if we did almost freeze on the road, and it was more than pleasant to be with old friends again.
The ball at the hall Friday evening was most enjoyable, and it was simply enchanting to dance once more to the perfect music of the dear old orchestra. And the young people in Helena are showing their appreciation of the good music by dancing themselves positively thin this winter. The band leader brought from New Orleans the Creole music that was so popular there, and at the ball we danced Les Varietes four times; the last was at the request of Lieutenant Joyce, with whom I always danced it in the South. It is thoroughly French, bringing in the waltz, polka, schottische, mazurka, and redowa. Some of those Creole girls were the personification of grace in that dance.
We knew of the ball before leaving home, and went prepared for it, but had not heard one word about the bal masque to be given by "The Army Social Club" at Mrs. Gordon's Tuesday evening. We did not have one thing with us to assist in the make-up of a fancy dress; nevertheless we decided to attend it. Faye said for me not to give him a thought, that he could manage his own costume. How I did envy his confidence in man and things, particularly things, for just then I felt far from equal to managing my own dress.
I had been told of some of the costumes that were to be worn by friends, and they were beautiful, and the more I heard of these things, the more determined I became that I would not appear in a domino! So Monday morning I started out for an idea, and this I found almost immediately in a little shop window. It was only a common pasteboard mask, but nevertheless it was a work of art. The face was fat and silly, and droll beyond description, and to look at the thing and not laugh was impossible. It had a heavy bang of fiery red hair. I bought it without delay, and was wondering where I could find something to go with it in that little town, when I met a friend—a friend indeed—who offered me some widths of silk that had been dyed a most hideous shade of green.
I gladly accepted the offer, particularly as this friend is in deep mourning and would not be at the ball to recognize me. Well, I made this really awful silk into a very full skirt that just covered my ankles, and near the bottom I put a broad band of orange-colored cambric—the stiff and shiny kind. Then I made a Mother Hubbard apron of white paper-cambric, also very stiff and shiny, putting a big full ruche of the cambric around neck, yoke, and bottom of sleeves. For my head I made a large cap of the white cambric with ruche all around, and fastened it on tight with wide strings that were tied in a large stiff bow under the chin. We drew my evening dress up underneath both skirt and apron and pinned it securely on my shoulders, and this made me stout and shapeless. Around this immense waist and over the apron was drawn a wide sash of bright pink, glossy cambric that was tied in a huge bow at the back. But by far the best of all, a real crown of glory, was a pigtail of red, red hair that hung down my back and showed conspicuously on the white apron. This was a loan by Mrs. Joyce, another friend in mourning, and who assisted me in dressing.
We wanted the benefit of the long mirror in the little parlor of the hotel, so we carried everything there and locked the door. And then the fun commenced! I am afraid that Mrs. Joyce's fingers must have been badly bruised by the dozens of pins she used, and how she laughed at me! But if I looked half as dreadful as my reflection in the mirror I must have been a sight to provoke laughter. We had been requested to give names to our characters, and Mrs. Joyce said I must be "A Country Girl," but it still seems to me that "An Idiot" would have been more appropriate.
I drove over with Major and Mrs. Carleton. The dressing rooms were crowded at Mrs. Gordon's, so it was an easy matter to slip away, give my long cloak and thick veil to a maid, and return to Mrs. Carleton before she had missed me, and it was most laughable to see the dear lady go in search for me, peering in everyone's face. But she did not find me, although we went down the stairs and in the drawing-room together, and neither did one person in those rooms recognize me during the evening. Lieutenant Joyce said he knew to whom the hair belonged, but beyond that it was all a mystery.