ctures, shrill like the vibrant wood of
the flute. When a ray of the sun happens to strike this it gleams like a
flaming fiery sword, symbol of that which marked the entrance to
Paradise. One can circumvent this guard here, and when he is in these
hills he is not far removed from a country well worth protecting by all
possible ingenuity, a paradise open to all such as love pure air and
wholesome strong exercise.

Much of the San Gabriel Reserve is rugged and well protected by nature
to be the home of the deer. San Bernardino, on the contrary, is the most
accessible of the southern reserves, with abundant feed for the horses
of those who visit it, well watered, and full of noble trees. So open is
the forest that in the hunting season much of it must be abandoned by
the deer, who are perfectly cognizant of their danger, and, with
somewhat of aid from man, are quite capable of taking care of
themselves.

After visiting these southern reserves, I outfitted at Redstone Park,
above Visalia, in the San Joaquin Valley, and cruised through the
Sequoia National Park, among the big trees, at that time patrolled by
colored soldiers under the able command of Captain Young, an officer who
possesses the distinction of being the only negro graduate of West
Point, I believe, now holding a commission in the United States
Army. The impression produced by the giant Sequoias is one of increasing
effect as the time among them is extended. In their province the world
has nothing to offer more majestic and more satisfying than these trees;
one must live among them to come fully beneath their charm.

Since the National Parks and military reservations are already game
refuges, it was of importance that I should see the Mt. Whitney Military
Reservation, and for this purpose I crossed the Sierra Reserve, through
broad tracts suitable for Game Refuges, thus acquiring familiarity with
a large and most interesting section of forest country. From the top of
Mt. Whitney, the highest bit of land in the United States, exclusive of
Alaska, one looks down two miles in altitude to Owen's Lake almost
directly beneath. I picked up, on the plateau of the summit, a bit of
obsidian Indian chipping, refutation in itself of the frequently
repeated statement that Indians do not climb high peaks. A month was
spent with great profit in and about the Sierra Reserve, and one might
go there many summers, ever learning something new.

Having seen these southern reser