But after all, the lake was too near to appeal to him except by way of
passing. Away on the next ridge was the black, rocky hump called
Grizzly Peak on the map. Hank spoke of it casually as Taylor Rock, and
sometimes called it King Solomon. That was where the bears had their
winter quarters, and that was where Jack wanted to go and camp. He
wanted to see a bear's den, and if the bears were all gone--Hank
assured him that they never hung out up there in the summer, but
ranged all over the mountains--he wanted to go inside a den and see
what it was like. And for a particular, definite ambition, without
which all effort is purposeless, he wanted to kill a bear.

Hank brought him all the things he needed, talked incessantly of what
Jack should do and what he shouldn't do, and even offered to pack his
outfit over to the Peak for him. So Jack went, and got his first taste
of real camping out in a real wilderness, and gained a more intimate
knowledge of the country he had to guard.

By the time his second relief was at hand, he was tempted to take what
money he had earned and go as far as it would take him. He did not
believe he could stand another month of that terrible isolation, even
with his new friendliness toward the stars and the forest to lighten a
little of his loneliness. Youth hungers for a warmer, more personal
companionship than Nature, and Jack was never meant for a hermit. He
grew sullen. He would stand upon his pinnacle where he could look down
at Crystal Lake, and hate the tourists who came with lunches and their
fishing tackle, and scrambled over the rocks, and called shrilly to
one another, and laughed, and tried to invent new ways of stringing
together adjectives that seemed to express their enthusiasm. He would
make biting remarks to them which the distance prevented their