energetic explorer firmly in the trail of Paradise Valley, the charming high green cleft that runs close to the east slope of the summit. Gratefully the other accepted the offer of guidance and when they turned, he made his uncertain way behind, his feet slipping now and then on the weather-worn rocky slants; he even sat down unexpectedly once, with some emphasis. . . They came to the divide, where he had first mislaid his path, and his guide showed him where he had made his mistake. Then as they stood on the little watershed where they could now see both east and west his guide indicated the view, but with no comment. The Lost One guardedly admired it as being "extensive," and wished to know the name of every respectable eminence in sight, but he plainly kept his previous opinion as to the paths, which he apparently thought should be macadamized. Still he showed a certain open-mindedness when he remarked, after glancing appraisingly at the knickerbockers, golf stockings, and rubbersoled shoes of his
