A FAT LITTLE EDITOR. 71 



pine trees, the lovely pine- wood houses; 

 all, all. We proposed to hunt and fish, 

 for food. But we had some bread, some 

 bacon, lots of coffee and sugar. And so, 

 whipping out our hooks and lines, we set 

 off with the editor up a little mountain 

 brook, and in less than an hour were far 

 up among the fields of eternal snow, and 

 finely loaded with trout. 



What a bed of pine quills! What long 

 and delicious cones for a camp fire! Some 

 of those sugar-pine cones are as long as 

 your arm. One of them alone will make a 

 lofty pyramid of flame and illuminate the 

 scene for half a mile about. I threw my 

 self on my back and kicked up my heels. 

 I kicked care square in the face. Oh, what 

 freedom ! How we would rest after dinner 

 here! Of course we could not all rest or 

 sleep at the same time. One of us would 

 have to keep a pine cone burning all the 

 time. Bears are not very numerous out 

 here; but the California lion is both numer 

 ous and large here. The wild-cat, too, is 



