r him, The man was not over-cordial. He did not, he later
admitted, regard Roosevelt's corduroy knee-pants with favor.

Roosevelt, knowing how to catch a hunter, showed Willis his guns.
"Will you go on a trip with me?" he asked.

"I am going to start out day after to-morrow for a three or four
weeks' hunt," Willis answered. "If you want to go along as my guest,
you are welcome to. But I want to tell you before we go, I won't take
any booze."

"Why do you say that?" asked Roosevelt, thoroughly interested in this
strange creature.

"Why, I've an idea you are some brewer's son who's made a lot of
money. You look as if you'd been raised on beer."

Roosevelt roared with delight. "I want to make a contract with you,"
he said. "I will give you twenty-five dollars for everything that you
show me in the way of game."

"I don't want it," said Willis gruffly.

"Then I will buy the grub."

"All the grub I'll take along won't amount to more than three or four
dollars--a hundred pounds of flour, twenty-five pounds of bacon, dried
apples, and black tea. That's all you'll get."

"By George," cried Roosevelt, "that's fine!"

"You can't stand a trip like this," Willis remarked with deadly
frankness.

"You take me on the trip and I'll show you. I can train myself to walk
as far as you can."

Willis doubted it and said so.

They camped far up in the mountains, hunting day after day through the
deep woods just below the timber-line. Roosevelt and Merrifield were
accustomed to life in the saddle, and although they had varied it with
an occasional long walk after deer or sheep, they were quite unable to
cope with Willis when it came to mountaineering. The climbing was
hard, the footing was treacherous, and the sharp rocks tore their
moccasins into ribbons. There was endless underbrush, thickets of
prickly balsam or laurel--but there were no goats.

At last, one mid-afternoon, as he was supporting himself against a
tree, halfway across a long landslide, Roosevelt suddenly discovered
one of the beasts he was after, a short distance away, making his way
down a hill, looking for all the world like a handsome tame billy. He
was in a bad position for a shot, and as he twisted himself about he
dislodged some pebbles. The goat, instantly alert, fled. Roosevelt
fired, but the shot went low, only breaking a fore-leg.

The three men raced and scrambled after the fleeing animal. It leaped
along the hillside for nearly a mile, then tur