We had been all summer in the saddle by that time, and a matter
of thirty-five hundred miles across the continent seemed a trifle.
Dan Devore brought us other news that morning, however. Cascade Pass was
closed with snow. A miner who lived alone somewhere up the gorge had
brought in the information. It was a serious moment. We could get to
Doubtful Lake, but it was unlikely we could get any farther. The
comparatively simple matter thus became a complicated one, for Doubtful
Lake was not only a detour; it was almost inaccessible, especially for
horses. But we hated to acknowledge defeat. So again we voted to go
ahead.
That day, while the pack-outfit was being got ready, I had a long talk
with the Forest Supervisor. He told me many things about our National
Forests, things which are worth knowing and which every American, whose
playgrounds the forests are, should know.
In the first place, the Forestry Department welcomes the camper. He is
given his liberty, absolutely. He is allowed to hunt such game as is in
season, and but two restrictions are placed on him.
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