My First Summer 



morning, I reluctantly went back to camp 

 for the Don's rifle to shoot him, if neces- 

 sary, in defense of the flock. Fortunately I 

 could n't find him, and after tracking him 

 a mile or two towards Mt. Hoffman I bade 

 him Godspeed and gladly returned to my 

 work on the Yosemite dome. 



The house fly also seemed at home and 

 buzzed about me as I sat sketching, and en- 

 joying my bear interview now it was over. 

 I wonder what draws house flies so far up the 

 mountains, heavy, gross feeders as they are, 

 sensitive to cold, and fond of domestic ease. 

 How have they been distributed from con- 

 tinent to continent, across seas and deserts 

 and mountain chains, usually so influential 

 in determining boundaries of species both 

 of plants and animals. Beetles and butter- 

 flies are sometimes restricted to small areas. 

 Each mountain in a range, and even the 

 different zones of a mountain, may have 

 its own peculiar species. But the house fly 

 seems to be everywhere. I wonder if any 



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