Indian Spring 



bling in the Reservation is the conscious 

 espionage of the mounted police, who patrol 

 the park at all seasons of the year. Of 

 course, one does not like to have one's 

 motive suspected while engaged in this de- 

 vout processional or peripatetic worship of 

 nature. Yet the police are, doubtless, nec- 

 essary to enforce the regulations of the park 

 commissioners and protect the timber and 

 wild creatures in the Reservation. One 

 wishes they might be invisible wardens, 

 however visible only to the wrongdoer, 

 and relentless upon his trail as some four- 

 footed, or indeed six-footed, Nemesis. 



My walk circumscribed a section of coun- 

 try about eight miles in diameter, and was 

 a fairly good day's work for one pair of 

 legs. But I would gladly repeat it, should 

 we have a taste of Indian spring this year. 

 It furnished me with an inextinguishable 

 appetite for some days, and at least a week's 

 supply of keen, swinging energy for work. 

 I do not know how I could have got better 

 returns from so small an investment of time 

 in any other venture. 



