In the Sierra 



I made my way through the gap discov- 

 ered last evening, which proved to be In- 

 dian Canon. There was no trail in it, and 

 the rocks and brush were so rough that 

 Carlo frequently called me back to help 

 him down precipitous places. Emerging 

 from the canon shadows, I found a man 

 making hay on one of the meadows, and 

 asked him whether Professor Butler was 

 in the valley. "I don't know," he replied ; 

 "but you can easily find out at the hotel. 

 There are but few visitors in the valley 

 just now. A small party came in yester- 

 day afternoon, and I heard some one called 

 Professor Butler, or Butterfield, or some 

 name like that.' : 



In front of the gloomy hotel I found a 

 tourist party adjusting their fishing tackle. 

 They all stared at me in silent wonder- 

 ment, as if I had been seen dropping down 

 through the trees from the clouds, mostly, 

 I suppose, on account of my strange garb. 

 Inquiring for the office, I was told it was 



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