, and they
never come near man except through accident. At that time, though, I
was willing to give all bears the benefit of the doubt--and the right
of way.

While further exploring the ridge above the camp I came upon an old
abandoned tunnel with its dump concealed among the trees below
timberline. The entrance to the tunnel had been timbered to prevent
its caving. There was nothing in its appearance to tell how long it
had been abandoned. Beside the dump was a small selected pile of ore.
This I gloated over happily, mistaking mingled stains and colors for
pure sold. But if it was a gold mine, why had the owners departed--and
why had they left rich ore? These and, other questions unanswered,
left me with an uneasy feeling. I wondered if a tragedy had happened
here, so many miles from civilization. With a torch of small twigs I
ventured into the dark hole running straight back beneath the cliff. A
short distance inside the tunnel I stopped uneasily. The silence was
intense. The twig torch fluttered faintly and went out. The darkness
was black beyond belief. Without delay I felt my way out into the
sunshine, leaving further exploration for another day.

For weeks I roamed the forest, circled the scattered lakes, climbed to
the jagged tops of high-flung peaks; and daily, almost, had new and
strange experiences. Everything was intensely interesting, and all was
fairyland. Many times I was torn between timidity and curiosity.
Though I often carried the huge old rifle with deadly intent, I failed
to bring down any big game. Invariably when I had a good chance, my
gun would be at camp.

Before breakfast one morning I made an excursion to a promontory to
watch the sunrise. Deep down in the canyons below, darkness still
lingered. Slowly the world emerged from the shadows like a
photographic plate developing and disclosing its images in the
darkroom. Beyond the promontory a great spire lifted high above the
canyon; I climbed to its top. Above the spire was a higher crag. Again
I climbed up. Up and up I climbed until almost noon. Each new vantage
point revealed new glory; every successive outpost lured me on.

At last the long ridge I followed shouldered against a sheer-topped
peak of the Continental Divide. It was mid-afternoon and hunger urged
me homeward. The way I had come was long and circuitous. There was a
short cut back to camp, but this threatened difficulty, for there was a
deep canyon to