postmistress fifteen minutes twice a 

 week, when the small boy, mounted on 

 a tough little pony, happened around 

 with the leather bag which carried the 

 mail to and from Jackson, thirty miles 

 below. 



" I'd like some elk meat mighty well 

 for dinner," Mrs. Cummings continued, 

 as she leaned against the kitchen door 

 and watched us mount our newly ac- 

 quired horses, "but you won't find 

 game around here without a guide 

 Easterners never do." 



Nimrod and I started off in joyous 

 mood. The secret of it, the fascination 

 of the wild life, was revealed to me. At 

 last I understood why the birds sing. 

 The glorious exhilaration of the moun- 

 tains, the feeling that life is a rosy dream, 

 and that all the worry and the fever and 

 the fret of man's making is a mere 



