44 THE LOG OF A TIMBER CRUISER 
est, miles from camp, out of sight and out of hear- 
ing of any human being, that was disgracefully like 
fear. The situation called forth qualities which a 
gregarious existence had well-nigh atrophied. 
But Time, the master magician, calmed weakened - 
nerves and developed latent forces till new habits 
were formed to fit the new circumstances. I felt, 
day by day, that I was gaining in self-dependence 
and poise. It was not necessary, after a while, to 
lean on the personality of another, to find content- 
ment only in the physical presence of one’s fellows. 
Nay, more! Before the season ended, I found 
myself relying upon this daily spiritual bath of si- 
lence. A strange serenity grew within me—a quiet 
fostered by the constant close contact with nature. 
The eternal peace of the dim-aisled forest, wistful 
and brooding, lay like a chrism upon the soul. On 
some lonely peak, dominating a world outspread 
below, the spirit leapt forth and spread silver wings 
to meet the glory of those majestic mountain soli- 
tudes. 
Despite the fact that use bred in us a disregard 
of the danger element in this individual cruising, a 
considerable hazard remained. A loosened rock or 
slippery tree trunk, an unseen crevice or crumbling 
ledge—any one of a hundred mischances—could 
easily cause an accident that might result seriously 
indeed before one could be found and cared for. An 
instance of just this sort of thing occurred before 
we had been out a week, and, though soon forgotten, 
