My First Summer 



usual had happened. We crossed the mead- 

 ows and drove slowly up the south rim of the 

 valley through the same woods I had passed 

 on my way to Cathedral Peak, and camped 

 for the night by the side of a small pond on 

 top of the big lateral moraine. 



September 10. In the morning at day- 

 break not one of the two thousand sheep was 

 in sight. Examining the tracks, we discov- 

 ered that they had been scattered, perhaps 

 by a bear. In a few hours all were found 

 and gathered into one flock again. Had fine 

 view of a deer. How graceful and perfect 

 in every way it seemed as compared with the 

 silly, dusty, tousled sheep! From the high 

 ground hereabouts had another grand view 

 to the northward, a heaving, swelling sea 

 of domes and round-backed ridges fringed 

 with pines, and bounded by innumerable 

 sharp-pointed peaks, gray and barren-look- 

 ing, though so full of beautiful life. Another 

 day of the calm, cloudless kind, purple in the 

 morning and evening. The evening glow has 

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