s squarely in the eye, I said
to him, "Well, why don't you move?" as though we were playing checkers
instead of the game of life. He made no reply, but the spell was
broken. I believe that both sides had been bluffing. In attempting to
use my kodak while continuing the bluff, I brought matters to a
focus. "What a picture you fellows will make," I said aloud, as my
right hand slowly worked the kodak out of the case which hung under my
left arm. Still keeping up a steady fire of looks, I brought the kodak
in front of me ready to focus, and then touched the spring that
released the folding front. When the kodak mysteriously, suddenly
opened before the wolves, they fled for their lives. In an instant
they had cleared the grassy space and vanished into the woods. I did
not get their picture.

With a gun, the wolf encounter could not have ended more happily. At
any rate, I have not for a moment cared for a gun since I returned
enthusiastic from my first delightful trip into the wilds without one.
Out in the wilds with nature is one of the safest and most sanitary of
places. Bears are not seeking to devour, and the death-list from
lions, wolves, snakes, and all other bugbears combined does not equal
the death-list from fire, automobiles, street-cars, or banquets. Being
afraid of nature or a rainstorm is like being afraid of the dark.

The time of that first excursion was spent among scenes that I had
visited before, but the discoveries I made and the deeper feelings
it stirred within me, led me to think it more worth while than any
previous trip among the same delightful scenes. The first day,
especially, was excitingly crowded with new sights and sounds and
fancies. I fear that during the earlier trips the rifle had obscured
most of the scenes in which it could not figure, and as a result I
missed fairyland and most of the sunsets.

[Illustration: LAKE ODESSA]

When I arrived at the alpine lake by which I was to camp, evening's
long rays and shadows were romantically robing the picturesque wild
border of the lake. The crags, the temples, the flower-edged
snowdrifts, and the grass-plots of this wild garden seemed
half-unreal, as over them the long lights and torn shadows grouped
and changed, lingered and vanished, in the last moments of the sun.
The deep purple of evening was over all, and the ruined crag with
the broken pine on the ridge-top was black against the evening's
golden glow, when I hastened to make camp by a p