one. On these
trips to high country I scouted the high-flung crest of Battle
Mountain, Lady Washington, Storm Peak, and Mount Meeker; explored
Glacier Gorge, investigated Chasm Lake, and from the top of Peak and
Meeker looked down into Wild Basin to the south.

I sketched a rude map of the great basin in my notebook and named it
"Land of Many Waters," because of the scores of small streams that
trickled down its inclosing mountain sides. The oval bowl I estimated
to be fifteen miles long by about half as wide, its sides formed of
mountain slopes densely wooded up to bleak timberline. Save the murmur
of falling water, or the wind upon the heights, it was a land of
silence. Small streams converged, dropped into deep canyons and reached
the river that rumbled far below. There were vivid, emerald lakes
everywhere--some lost in the woods near the river, others pocketed
behind the ridges, while still more could be seen up above naked
timberline.

I returned, thrilled with the thought of exploring Wild Basin, sought
the Parson and told him my ambition. At first he was much amused, but
when he found I was serious he grew grave.

"There's no neighbors over that way," he objected. "If anything
happens, you'll be beyond help." Even though he was older and much
more experienced, I thought him hardly qualified, after his own
foolhardy adventures, to discourage me; but I decided to wait until
fall before setting out. This delay would enable me to know more about
the mountains, to add to my experience, and better fit me to cope with
the emergencies of that inviting, great unknown--Wild Basin.

Everywhere I found strange birds and animals, and began to get
acquainted with them. The handsome, black and white, long-tailed
magpies were much like the crows I had known in Kansas, so far as
wariness was concerned. The Rocky Mountain long-crested jays, quite
unlike our prairie jays, much more brilliant in coloring, their
gorgeous coats of turquoise blue and black flashing in the sunshine,
were continually bickering, and following me through the woods to see
what I was about. Chickadees and nuthatches were always inspecting the
trees for food, running up and down, paying no attention to me and
going about their business with cheerful little chirrups that expressed
their contentment. Occasionally a crow flew up the valley with raucous
calls; and sometimes a raven pursued his way toward the deeper woods.
Meadow larks and robins