tiful parks in the world are
commonplace to what I can show you. My only sorrow is to think of them
given over to the sawmill. Perhaps you and your mother will come up some
time, and let me show you my lakes and streams. There are waters so lovely
they make the heart ache. Hugh is planning to come up soon; perhaps you
and Mrs. Redfield will come with him."

"I'd like it above everything," she responded, fervently. Then her voice
changed: "But all depends on my mother's health."

It hurt him to hear her call Eliza Wetherford mother. He wanted to forget
her origin for the moment. He was not in love with her--far from it! But
she was so alluring, and the proprietress of the Wetherford House was not
nice, and that made one doubt the daughter.

She broke the silence. "It seems dreadfully dark and mysterious up there."
She indicated his path.

"It isn't as bad as it looks. There is a good trail, and my pony knows it
as well as I do. I enjoy riding by night."

"But there are bears and other wild things, are there not?"

"Not as many as I wish there were."

"Why do you say that?"

"I hate to see all the wild life killed off. Some day all these forests
will have game refuges like the Yellowstone National Park. They are coming
each year to have greater and greater value to the people of the plains.
They are playgrounds, like the Alps. Campers are coming into my valley
every day, and, while they increase the danger of fires, I welcome them.
They are all advocates of the forest. As one man said: 'The mountains
supplement the plains. They give color and charm to the otherwise
monotonous West.' I confess I couldn't live on the prairies--not even on
the plains--if out of sight of the mountains. If I should ever settle down
to a home it would be in a canon like this, with a great peak at my front
door."

"It _is_ beautiful," the girl said, in the tone of sadness with which we
confront the perfect night, the perfect flower, the flawless landscape.
"It is both grand and peaceful."

This tone of sadness pleased him. It showed her depth of perception, and
he reflected that she had not uttered a vacuous or silly phrase since
their first meeting. "She is capable of great development," he thought.
Aloud he said: "You are a strange mingling of East and West. Do you
realize it?"

"In what way?" she asked, feeling something ardent in his tone.

"You typify to me at this moment this whole State. You fill me with
enthusiasm for its