/ 12 Rod, Gun, and Palette in the High Rockies 



"Search me, but people do do things for Bill, don't they? 

 I reckon he must own that Jap. Anyhow, lets be thankful 

 we're with him." 



"He's put it on a cold plate" commented the artist, some- 

 time later, contemplating a T-bone steak set before him. 



"Don't holler," sternly rebuked Bill "You ought to be 

 blanked thankful you're getting anything at all to eat any 

 way at all, after the whole outfit's gone to bed. That Jap didn't 

 want to feed anybody. Jim's getting fussy, coming out from 

 camp." he went on, addressing Art: "Up at the hotel just now, 

 when we took our bags up to our room, he went sniffing around 

 with his nose in the air, and put up a roar because the windows 

 hadn't been opened since the last traveler slept there day before 

 yesterday. And that when he didn't know if he was going to 

 sleep at all to-night. Camp life isn't a good thing for Jimmy. 

 It's too luxurious — makes him too soft to buck the hardships of 

 the return to civilization." 



We ate. We slept. 



