iked to
acknowledge.) Would she go up to Mirror Lake after breakfast? he
asked. Certainly, if father did not need her.

So a little later, leaving Bess neighing behind in the camp, up the
long, dusty road Jane and Job rambled on, past the pasture and the
Royal Arches, on along the river bank, and, turning away to the left,
climbed on the rise of ground into that nook where the South Dome
seems almost to meet the Half Dome, and stood by the glassy waters of
Mirror Lake. In that early hour before the ripples had stirred the
surface, this lakelet at the foot of the Half Dome was worthy of all
its romantic fame. Nine times that morning Job and Jane saw the sun
rise over the rounded peak of the Half Dome, as they followed slowly
the shores of the lake from sun-kissed beach to shadow. Jane went into
ecstasies. Was it not beautiful! What a picture! The clear-cut rocky
mountain, its low edges fringed with trees, its top so bare, the blue
sky and passing clouds, that bright spot which rose so quickly far
back of the topmost turn of the Dome, all mirrored at their feet.

Job's esthetic nature was stirred to its depths, and he echoed Jane's
adjectives. Before they reached camp she had yielded to his appeal for
another walk to-morrow, perhaps to Glacier Point and home by
moonlight.

That night Job took his blankets from the hotel and stole over back of
the Reeds' camp, just beyond the Indian's "cache" on the gentle slope
of the open valley where the great wall of Eagle Peak rises four
thousand feet. Among a lot of boulders which look for all the world
like tents in the twilight, there, between two great pines, he lay
down to watch the moonlight fade from Glacier Point yonder across the
valley, and fell asleep at last to dream of the Berkshire Hills, the
winding Connecticut, and the scenes of childhood days.

It must have been three o'clock--it was dark, very dark, though the
stars were shining brightly--when something awoke him. He roused to
find himself striking his nose on either side in a strange manner.
Fully awake, he discovered the cause. Two tribes of ants living on
opposite pine trees had completed a real estate bargain that night and
had decided to change homes. By some chance they found his face in
their pathway, but, perfectly fearless of the giant sleeping there,
had kept on their journey, passing each other on the bridge of his
nose. As he woke, the tramp of myriad feet crossed that feature, the
procession for the