320 OUR NATIONAL PARKS. 



notice you go up." I replied I had come through 

 the woods from the north, looking at the trees. 

 " Oh, then, you must be John Muir. Halt, 

 you 're tired ; come and rest and I '11 cook for 

 you." Then I explained that I was tracing the 

 Sequoia belt, that on account of sheep my mule 

 was starving, and therefore must push on to the 

 lowlands. " No, no," he said, " that corral over 

 there is full of hay and grain. Turn your mule 

 into it. I don't own it, but the fellow who does 

 is hauling lumber, and it will be all right. He 's 

 a white man. Come and rest. How tired you 

 must be ! The Big Trees don't go much farther 

 south, nohow. I know the country up there, have 

 hunted all over it. Come and rest, and let your 

 little doggone rat of a mule rest. How in heavens 

 did you get him across the canons — roll him ? or 

 carry him? He's poor, but he'll get fat, and 

 I '11 give you a horse and go with you up the 

 mountains, and while you 're looking at the trees 

 I '11 go hunting. It will be a short job, for the 

 end of the Big Trees is not far." Of course I 

 stopped. No true invitation is ever declined. 

 He had been hungry and tired himself many a 

 time in the Rocky Mountains as well as in the 

 Sierra. Now he owned a band of cattle and 

 lived alone. His cabin was about eight by ten 

 feet, the door at one end, a fireplace at the other, 

 and a bed on one side fastened to the logs. 

 Leading me in without a word of mean apology, 



