stealthily after hunters. There was a hoot-owl crying dismally up in the
woods, and down by the edge of the river bright-green eyes peered at us
from the darkness. When the wind came up and moaned through the trees it
was not hard to imagine we were out in the wilderness. This had been a
favorite game for Hal and me; only tonight there seemed some reality about
it. From the way Hal whispered, and listened, and looked, he might very
well have been expecting a visit from lions or, for that matter, even from
Indians. Finally we went to bed. But our slumbers were broken. Hal often
had nightmares even on ordinary nights, and on this one he moaned so much
and thrashed about the tent so desperately that I knew the lions were after
him.

I dreamed of forest lands with snow-capped peaks rising in the background;
I dreamed of elk standing on the open ridges, of white-tailed deer trooping
out of the hollows, of antelope browsing on the sage at the edge of the
forests. Here was the broad track of a grizzly in the snow; there on a
sunny crag lay a tawny mountain-lion asleep. The bronzed cowboy came in for
his share, and the lone bandit played his part in a way to make me shiver.
The great pines, the shady, brown trails, the sunlit glades, were as real
to me as if I had been among them. Most vivid of all was the lonely forest
at night and the campfire. I heard the sputter of the red embers and
smelled the wood smoke; I peered into the dark shadows watching and
listening for I knew not what.

On the next day early in the afternoon father appeared on the river road.

"There he is," cried Hal. "He's driving Billy. How he's coming"

Billy was father's fastest horse. It pleased me immensely to see the pace,
for father would not have been driving fast unless he were in a