iver deep down in its canyon, the great
basin was voiceless. The forest showed no signs of man. Above and
beyond rose a circle of snow-capped peaks. I paused in awe; the world
was bigger than I had dreamed. I was a boy without a woodsman's
skill--a boy alone in the heart of an overwhelming silence. I turned,
with a pang of homesickness, just in time to see the return horse
disappear. Whistling loudly, I set about making camp. It should be my
headquarters, from which I could explore in all directions, returning
as often as necessary for supplies.

A lake with sandy shores lapped in and out among immense bowlders. On
the west side a cliff rose straight from the water. At the upper edge
a small cataract came leaping down the ledges and plunged noisily into
the pool that overflowed into the lake. Above the water was a grove of
Engelmann spruces, giant trees that rose straight for more than a
hundred feet. I pitched my tent in a small open glade, but had trouble
getting down the stakes, for everywhere was granite. The first test of
my resourcefulness had come--I met it by piling stones around the tent
stakes, bracing them taut for the ropes.

The call of the wild was too loud to ignore--I hastened my camp making.
The sun was going down on a world of splendor. Overhead were
brilliantly colored clouds, while deep in the canyon below the early
darkness was thickening. From somewhere in the distance came the cry
of an animal. Camp was left unfinished; I climbed to a jutting
shoulder that overlooked the canyon. From far below came the noise of
the river as it chugged and sobbed and roared endlessly between its
towering walls. I promised myself I would go down and explore that
dark canyon at an early date.

Of a sudden there came an indescribable, unearthly sound that echoed
and reechoed among the cliffs. I could not tell the direction from
which it came; a sudden chill crept along my spine, my hair prickled
and lifted. Then the echoes ceased, the silence that followed was
equally terrifying. I bethought me of my unfinished camp. Later I
learned that alarming sound was the bugling of a bull elk. It was the
mating season.

As darkness came on I ate beans and bread by the light of the campfire.
The beans came out of a can, so were well cooked; but the bread was my
first campfire, culinary concoction. It was a flour and water mixture,
plus salt and baking powder, cooked against a hot rock. It was smoked
b