***** "Oh, Ranger!" 



tainment, starting usually with singing and other musical entertainment 

 and then resolving into the evening discussions with the rangers sta 

 tioned near by. The rangers talk of the natural wonders, or of the wild 

 life, or sometimes tell tales on the Dudes and Sagebrushers themselves, 

 to their evident enjoyment. The evening fireside gathering has become 

 so popular in some of the parks that the rangers have built open-air 

 assemblies with logs for seats and bonfires for the stage lights. While 

 not as comfortable as the lobbies of the hotels, the campfires give an 

 added atmosphere. Many times the campfire lures prominent guests 

 away from the hotel for the evening. The firelight flickering on the 

 trees, the odor of burning pine, the witchery of the starry sky over 

 head, the comradery of the camp, combine to cast a spell over the visitor. 



From every corner of the land they gather, swapping ideas, talking 

 over road conditions, telling their adventures and listening to those of 

 their new-found neighbors, or enjoying the impromptu entertainment 

 of a band of informal musicians. There is always somebody who can 

 do something under the spell of the campfire. 



"I have met people here from every state in the union," exclaimed 

 President Harding after he had visited a number of these camps. "This 

 is a cross section of America. The country is turning to the national 

 parks for recreation. There are no finer playgrounds in the world." 

 Like many another observer, he was enraptured by the spirit, the fra 

 ternity, of the campfire "town meetings." 



It has always seemed to the rangers that the Sagebrusher has the 

 advantage over the Dude in the enjoyment of this out-of-doors fun in 

 the national parks. The Dude seems always in a hurry, always trying 

 to keep up with an itinerary laid out for him by some railroad or travel 

 agent before he started. Seeking to give the Dude a fine, large travel 

 bargain for his time and money, the agents often hurry him through 

 the parks at a breath-taking clip. Mr. Dude may see more scenery in 

 that way, but he is forced to pass up a lot of the real fun of being in 

 the mountains this life about the campfires, so colorful, so rich in 

 song and tradition, the chance to shake off the years and be young once 

 more for a few days or a few weeks. 



The Dude is not the only visitor who does his sight-seeing fast. Not 

 long ago a ranger at the entrance to Rocky Mountain Park was telling 

 of some motorists who came to the checking station and asked : 



"How long does it take to see this park?" 



"You could do a good part of it in two days," said the ranger. 



"Too long. We haven't time. Gimme a sticker, will you, so I can 

 prove I've been to Rocky Mountain." 



This happens occasionally at all of the parks. Why such visitors 

 come, no one knows. Where they are going, no one knows least of 



