, I reached the safety of the canyon.

[Illustration: The memory of that race for life is still vividly
terrifying.]

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE PROVERBIAL BUSY BEAVER

It was my boyish ambition to find some corner of those rocky wilds
where no human being had ever set foot and to be the first person to
behold it. What boy has not felt that Columbus had several centuries'
advantage of him: that Balboa was a meddlesome old chap who might
better have stayed in Spain and left American oceans to American boys
to discover? Oh! the unutterable regret of youthful hearts that the
Golden Fleece and the Holy Grail and other high adventures passed
before their time!

In searching for my virgin wilderness, I saw many spots that bore no
trace of human existence, wild enough, remote enough, calm enough, to
justify my willing credulity.

But I had another notion which even my young enthusiasm had to
acknowledge was in error. I fancied that the animals in such a spot as
I have described, unwise to the ways of man, having had no experience
to teach them fear and caution, would be gentle and trusting, and
approachable. I was doomed to disappointment. I found that no matter
how remote the region, how primeval its forests or how Eden-new its
streams, its beasts were furtive, wary, distrustful.

But after all, though these ideas, like many of my other youthful
dreams, did not "pan out" in following them up, I found other leads
which yielded rich experiences.

When I first came to the mountains, the beavers were extremely wild.
Rarely did I glimpse one or even see signs of their activities. True,
all along the streams were deserted beaver homes, merely stick frames
with most of the mud plaster fallen off, and through the meadows were a
succession of dams which might easily have flooded them for miles
around. No doubt large colonies had once lived there. Once in a while
I found a fallen aspen, with the marks of a beaver's keen chisels upon
it. But as for the beaver's renowned industry--it wasn't!

"I thought beavers were busy animals," I complained to the Parson.
"I've heard industrious folks called beavers all my life. I don't see
how they got their reputation. Why, it wouldn't be hard for me to be
busier'n these beavers!"

The old man laughed.

"Now, you're rather hard on the little critters," he defended.
"They're not so indolent, considering their chances." Then he went on
to explain.

A horde of trapper