53° 



RECREATION 



limbed big-horned sheep of the Rocky 

 Mountains. 



Suddenly a shrill whistle pierced the air 

 and I instinctively looked for a vision of the 

 goblin wolves and the Wild Hunter, but a 

 moment later realized that the sound I 

 heard was but the warning cry of a whistling 

 marmot. Again this silence was broken, 

 this time by a low rumbling sound which 

 increased in volume until it roared like a 

 broadside from an old forty-four-gun man- 

 of-war, each crag and peak taking up the 

 sound and hurling it against its neighbor 

 until the reverberating noise seemed to 

 come from all points of the compass. 



Away in the distance I could see a white 

 stream pouring from the precipitous edge 

 of an elevated glacier; this seeming moun- 

 tain torrent I knew was not water, but ice, 

 thousands of tons of which having cracked 

 and broken from the edge of the glacier was 

 now being dashed over the hard face of the 

 rock and ground into minute fragments. 



The white stream could be seen to de- 

 crease perceptibly in size, from a broad 

 sheet to a wide band, a narrow ribbon, a 

 line, a hair, and then disappeared alto- 

 gether. While the distant mountains were 

 still growling, mumbling and playing 

 shuttlecock with the echoes, a timid little 

 chief hare went hopping across a green half- 

 acre of grass at the damp edge of a melting 

 snow patch in my path. Overhead a golden 

 eagle sailed with a small mammal in its 

 talons; strange reddish-colored bumblebees 

 busied themselves in a bunch of flowers 

 growing in a crevice in the rocks at my feet. 



But my eye could discern no larger crea- 

 tures in this Alpine pasture land; not only 

 could I see no sheep or goats, but not a sign 

 of my friend or the mountain girl. They 

 had vanished from the face of the picture as 

 completely as if the master artist had erased 

 them with one mighty sweep of his paint- 

 brush. 



To a man with my pronounced material- 

 istic tendencies the- word supernatural, as 

 used with reference to things of this earth, 

 is a paradoxical term ; it is inconceivable to 

 me that anything should exist in this world 

 which is not a part of nature and subject to 

 natural laws. 



Nevertheless, when I viewed the lonely 

 landscape, with no human being in sight, I 



confess to experiencing a creepy sensation 

 and a strong inclination to flee. It was in a 

 rough, basin-shaped depression among the 

 mountain peaks that I now sat on a large 

 rock with my back to the* black chasm. 

 From my elevated position I could see a 

 long distance; strange fancies creep into 

 one's head on such occasions and play havoc 

 with previous well-founded beliefs. To me, 

 a poor fool of a tenderfoot, both Big Pete 

 and the loup-garo of a girl had melted into 

 the thinnest of thin air, such as is only found 

 in high altitudes. 



How could I tell that I myself was not 

 invisible ? 



It is not necessary for one to believe in 

 wehr-wolves, in lycanthropy, to confess that 

 this weird young woman of the Rocky 

 Mountains seemed to have many strange 

 accomplishments, not the least startling of 

 which was her apparent ability to become 

 invisible. 



Seated on the top of the rock in that 

 lonely land, I pulled out my bronzed old 

 veteran briar-wood and began to smoke, 

 for what was the use of spending my time 

 vainly seeking two invisible Ecutocks of the 

 mountains when they might be even then 

 standing at my elbow laughing at my per- 

 plexity. 



Like so many of the much abused things 

 of this world, tobacco is a good thing when 

 used with moderation, and I smoked to 

 soothe my mind; but, in these high alti- 

 tudes the air acts on one's system like cham- 

 pagne, and tobacco immediately affects the 

 heart, causing it to beat with increased 

 rapidity, which of itself excites one, and as 

 I smoked I became more and more nervous 

 and fidgety. The little chief hare again 

 made its appearance, and for want of a 

 better audience I gave vent to my irrita- 

 bility in an address to this timid mountain- 

 eer and told the astonished animal that I 

 considered it highly improper for two young 

 people to become invisible together. "There 

 is no telling to what mischief these fern-seed 

 caps might lead their wearers," cried I, as I 

 knocked the ashes from my pipe. By this 

 act I stampeded my audience, which, with 

 an odd screech, fled to its hole under some 

 loose stones. 



Did it ever occur to the reader how very 

 demoralizing such caps would be ? Did the 



