urther disheartened. In the foreground stood a half dozen frame
buildings, graceless and cheap, without tree or shrub to give shadow or
charm of line--all was bare, bleak, sere; but under his window the stream
was singing its glorious mountain song, and away to the west rose the
aspiring peaks from which it came. Romance brooded in that shadow, and on
the lower foot-hills the frost-touched foliage glowed like a mosaic of
jewels.

Dressing hurriedly he went down to the small bar-room, whose litter of
duffle-bags, guns, saddles, and camp utensils gave evidence of the
presence of many hunters and fishermen. The slovenly landlord was poring
over a newspaper, while a discouraged half-grown youth was sludging the
floor with a mop; but a cheerful clamor from an open door at the back of
the hall told that breakfast was on.

Venturing over the threshold, Norcross found himself seated at table with
some five or six men in corduroy jackets and laced boots, who were, in
fact, merchants and professional men from Denver and Pueblo out for fish
and such game as the law allowed, and all in holiday mood. They joked the
waiter-girls, and joshed one another in noisy good-fellowship, ignoring
the slim youth in English riding-suit, who came in with an air of mingled
melancholy and timidity and took a seat at the lower corner of the long
table.

The landlady, tall, thin, worried, and inquisitive, was New
England--Norcross recognized her type even before she came to him with a
question on her lips. "So you're from the East, are you?"

"I've been at school there."

"Well, I'm glad to see you. My folks came from York State. I don't often
get any one from the _real_ East. Come out to fish, I s'pose?"

"Yes," he replied, thinking this the easiest way out.

"Well, they's plenty of fishing--and they's plenty of air, not much of
anything else."

As he looked about the room, the tourist's eye was attracted by four
young fellows seated at a small table to his right. They wore rough
shirts of an olive-green shade, and their faces were wind-scorched; but
their voices held a pleasant tone, and something in the manner of the
landlady toward them made them noticeable. Norcross asked her who they
were.

"They're forestry boys."

"Forestry boys?"

"Yes; the Supervisor's office is here, and these are his help."

This information added to Norcross's interest and cheered him a little.
He knew something of the Forest Service, and had been told tha