IN THE PARK 103 



At first you do not see much of the wild hfe of 

 the Park, An occasional chipmunk or a squirrel 

 pursues his affairs with that air of intense business 

 that all small people affect. But, at the first, you 

 are mainly concerned about the geysers. 



That road, however, makes you forget every- 

 thing. It is a French road, broad, well made, 

 winding by grades almost imperceptible, here losing 

 the river over a ridge, there descending to its very 

 level so that you see the trout playing in the 

 shallows and the long tranquil reaches where it 

 lingers to rest in the shade of aspen and willow. 



One historical spot we passed — National Peak 

 — where, as I have said before, the idea of this 

 National Park was first conceived. 



The Encyclopoedia of Misstatements named it 

 Junction Butte and told a long-winded story 

 about a man who climbed up and couldn't climb 

 down, a -story that belongs fifty miles away, and 

 the peak that he named belongs as far in another 

 direction. But there we saw our first trout. 

 Trout? Nay — a whale. Did you ever see a Loch 

 Leven trout? It is the most beautiful fish that 



