boy to appreciate scenery on a two-day-old empty
stomach, which he has been urging up mountains and joggling down
valleys. Had the bunnies been more accommodating and gone into their
holes so I could snare them or smoke them out, or the grouse had been
less flighty when I flushed them, and remained near enough so I could
reach them with my stones, I might have stretched my food supply over
the extended time of my unexpectedly prolonged travels. But no such
good luck attended me on that excursion. The very first day I slipped
off a foot-log while crossing a saucy little mountain brook and bruised
my shin, tore my trousers and injured my camera. Like most small boys,
I regretted that gratuitous bath. I began to wonder if Slide-Rock Pete
was so crazy after all.

Now the clouds were pinning themselves up to dry on the pointed summits
of the peaks, and were already beginning to drip on the world below.
Darkness threatened to set in early. I knew I ought to stop and make
camp while it was still light enough to see, but I kept on going,
hoping something might turn up. My empty stomach growled its
disapproval, but I stubbornly ignored its protests. While my better
judgment, my stomach and myself were all three arguing, I thought I
glimpsed a building, far down on the slope below. Too excited to say
"I told you so" to my companions, I quickened my steps and headed
toward it. "A prospector! If he has any grub at all he'll share it,
and I'll be protected from this downpour." By that time the celestial
laundresses were emptying out their wash tubs and sloshing water all
over the earth.

When I drew near the shack, I discovered it was one of a group of
straggling houses scattered along the sides and bottom of the gulch. A
settlement! It was dark by then, yet not a light could I see. "Must
go to bed with the chickens," I mused. "I hope they won't mind being
gotten up to give a wayfarer shelter and a bite to eat."

On my way down the slope, I passed two or three log cabins but these
were silent, apparently empty, and I hastened on to the main group
which faced on the single, grass-grown road that ran along the bottom
of the gulch, intending to knock at the first which showed signs of
life. I walked the length of the sprawling road, looking sharply at
each house, listening for voices, a chance word or a peal of laughter.
Not a sound greeted my ears except the thud of rain upon sod roofs, the
drip of water through st