my kit for pony travel.
Then, after watching Big Pete skilfully throw the diamond hitch, we were
off for the hills and our first camp. I hoped that I was on my way to
find my real father and unravel the mystery that surrounded my strange
babyhood. But I little guessed what adventures I was to have or the
strange things I was to see before my quest was ended.

We traveled fast all the remaining portion of the afternoon and toward
evening we made camp and for the first time in my life I slept under the
sky. At the end of the fifth day we reached the secret and narrow
opening of a big valley or "park" in the midst of a wild tumble of
mountains. Big Pete said we would pitch our tent in the park.

"Tha's plenty of signs 'round too an' if we loosen t' dogs p'raps we kin
stir up a mountain lion or collar some fresh meat t' start camp with,"
said he as he slid off his horse and took the leashes off the dogs.

It took us but a short time to arrange our camp, then Big Pete followed
by the frisking dogs slipped silently into the woods. He was gone
scarcely a quarter of an hour when he reappeared again without the dogs,
motioned for me to get my gun and follow him.

"Tha's elk signs all bout," he said, "an' the muts broke away on a fresh
trail. Now you an' me'll climb through that draw yonder and hide out on
the runway till they drive an elk in gun shot. Come along."

I followed eagerly and presently we had climbed through a thickly grown
poplar grove and found a suitable hiding place among the small poplars.
We had the wind right and a clear view of most of the open park. Big
Pete stooped down and motioned for me to do likewise.

I quietly crouched beside him and waited--waited until my legs were
cramped, waited until the dampness from the moss struck through the
heavy soles of my tenderfoot shoes and chilled my feet; waited until my
arm was so numb that it felt like a piece of lead--then, in spite of the
danger of incurring Big Pete's displeasure and in spite of my dread of
being thought a dude tenderfoot, I changed my position, rubbed life into
my arm and assumed an easier pose.

In front of us was a small lake, deep, dark and unruffled. All around
the edge was a natural wharf formed from the gigantic trunks of trees
which had fallen for ages into the lake and been washed by wind and
waves and forced by winter ice into such regular order and position
along the shore that their arrangement looked like the work of men. Back