THE LONG TRAIL 



My father had done much hunting with 

 many and varied friends. I have often 

 heard him say of some one whom I had 

 thought an ideal hunting companion: 

 "He's a good fellow, but he was always 

 fishing about in the pot for the best piece 

 of meat, and if there was but one partridge 

 shot, he would try to roast it for himself. 

 If there was any delicacy he wanted more 

 than his share." Things assume such dif- 

 ferent proportions in the wilds ; after two 

 months living on palm-tree tops and mon- 

 keys, a ten-cent can of condensed milk 

 bought for three dollars from a rubber ex- 

 plorer far exceeds in value the greatest 

 delicacy of the season to the ordinary citi- 

 zen who has a varied and sufficient menu 

 at his command every day in the year. 



Even as small children father held us 

 responsible to the law of the jungle. He 

 would take us out on camping trips to a 

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