interest. To German, French, Italian, or British eyes he was
a commanding personality, and also the representative of a peculiar and
interesting phase of New World life. Recalling their interest in his
scenes from his native land, so unlike anything to be found in Europe
to-day, Will invited a number of these officers to accompany him on an
extended hunting-trip through Western America.

All that could possibly do so accepted the invitation. A date was set
for them to reach Chicago, and from there arrangements were made for a
special train to convey them to Nebraska.

When the party gathered, several prominent Americans were of the number.
By General Miles's order a military escort attended them from Chicago,
and the native soldiery remained with them until North Platte was
reached.

Then the party proceeded to "Scout's Rest Ranch," where they were
hospitably entertained for a couple of days before starting out on their
long trail.

At Denver ammunition and supplies were taken on board the train. A
French chef was also engaged, as Will feared his distinguished guests
might not enjoy camp-fare. But a hen in water is no more out of
place than a French cook on a "roughing-it" trip. Frontier cooks, who
understand primitive methods, make no attempt at a fashionable cuisine,
and the appetites developed by open-air life are equal to the rudest,
most substantial fare.

Colorado Springs, the Garden of the Gods, and other places in Colorado
were visited. The foreign visitors had heard stories of this wonderland
of America, but, like all of nature's masterpieces, the rugged beauties
of this magnificent region defy an adequate description. Only one who
has seen a sunrise on the Alps can appreciate it. The storied Rhine is
naught but a story to him who has never looked upon it. Niagara is only
a waterfall until seen from various view-points, and its tremendous
force and transcendent beauty are strikingly revealed. The same is true
of the glorious wildness of our Western scenery; it must be seen to be
appreciated.

The most beautiful thing about the Garden of the Gods is the entrance
known as the Gateway. Color here runs riot. The mass of rock in the
foreground is white, and stands out in sharp contrast to the rich red of
the sandstone of the portals, which rise on either side to a height of
three hundred feet. Through these giant portals, which in the sunlight
glow with ruddy fire, is seen mass upon mass of gorgeous color, r