helpful to him. Now, think it over, and when you are ready we will talk it over again."

During the months of the winter, the subject had often been brought up. Jack, when he was consulted, was, of course, eager to go, doubly so after he had learned that his uncle proposed to take Hugh Johnson along. At last his parents consented to his going.

In the spring Mr. Sturgis went west to the ranch, as was his custom, and arrangements were made for Jack to come west over the Union Pacific Railroad as soon as school had closed.

On the appointed day, the train bearing Jack drew up at the little station nearest to Mr. Sturgis's ranch, and Jack's uncle and Hugh Johnson stepped on board the train, while Jack waved an enthusiastic greeting to Joe, who sat in the wagon that had brought them from the ranch.

Then the three travellers sped on westward, plunging through the Wasatch Mountains, and at length reached the Great Salt Lake Basin. They stopped for a day at Salt Lake City, interesting for its beauty, its surroundings of great mountains, and its wonderful lake. Jack had a swim in Salt Lake, and though he had been warned about it, experienced a curious sensation in swimming in its waters, it being impossible for him to sink. He swam about, or stood upright with his whole head out of the water, but found that diving was very difficult. Then, as he began to dry off, after coming out of the water, it was curious to feel his skin become rough with a crust of salt which had to be washed off with fresh water before he could dress.

As they were going back to the city on the railroad Jack said to his uncle: "I wish you would tell me, Uncle George, why this lake is so salt. Of course I have heard you say that it has no outlet and that the rivers which flow into it are constantly bringing down a little salt in solution, which, in the course of many ages has become concentrated in the lake; but is that the whole story? It doesn't seem to me enough to account for it all."

"It isn't, Jack; you are quite right about that. The Salt Lake Basin, of which the Great Salt Lake now occupies but a comparatively small portion, is simply the bed of another far older and grander sheet of water that was once here, which the geologists called Lake Bonneville. If you take the trouble to look along the mountains while we are here you can see, at various levels, the terraces which indicate the height, on the mountains, of the waters of that inland sea at different periods. You will see, and in fact you can see from here," and he pointed toward the mountains, "these terraces running straight along the mountain sides, hundreds of feet above the level of the plain. Now, Lake Bonneville was far larger than any body of water that now exists on this continent. Its outlet was to the northwest, in Idaho, toward Snake River; and it extended southward for several hundred miles. At last a time came, when, by the elevation of the land, this outlet was cut off, and we had a body of water without any outlet. Gradually evaporation, working for centuries, dried up this lake, and now all that remains of it is the Salt Lake, in which we have just been swimming. In that water is concentrated much of all of the salt and soda that was in the greater lake, as well as much of that brought down by the streams during the ages that have passed since the old outlet closed up. Even Salt Lake is believed to be steadily growing smaller, drying up, and the flats around its border are now so full of salt and of alkali of one kind and another that they are wholly infertile and cannot be farmed.

"The Mormons have made out of the valley of the lake, however, a perfect garden spot. Once it was a sage desert, as barren as anything that you have ever been over, more so perhaps. Now you can see for yourself what grows here,—wheat, rye, barley, oats, green stretches of graceful corn, great patches of potatoes, orchards and hay fields; and to me it seems more like one of the farming States east of the Missouri than it does like a sage desert."

"Well, that is mighty interesting, Uncle George, and I am glad to hear it. I sometimes think that I would like mighty well to study geology. It seems as if the history of the earth we're living on ought to be as interesting a subject as one could take up."

From Salt Lake the travellers hurried west, and before very long found themselves at San Francisco. From there a steamer took them north along the rough and dangerous coasts of California, Oregon, and Washington to the Strait of Fuca and Puget Sound, where Mr. Sturgis left them; and finally to Victoria. Before the three parted, it had been decided that Jack and Hugh should get a canoe and some Indians and make a trip through the Gulf of Georgia; and returning, should meet Mr. Sturgis in Tacoma, Washington, whence they would return to the East.

It was almost sundown, when the steamer which bore Jack and Hugh approached the wharf at New Westminster. After they had entered the mouth of the Fraser River the ride had still been very interesting, for on either side of the steamer appeared at intervals great barn-like wooden buildings, which some of the passengers on board explained were salmon canning factories. Loitering about these were a few Chinamen, apparently attached to the factories; but not many people were about, for as yet the salmon had not begun to run.

As the boat drew up to the wharf, a good many people from the town sat, awaiting its landing. Among these, Hugh and Jack noticed a tall, well-built man, who seemed to keep his eyes constantly fixed on them. At last he bowed, and waved his hand, to which salutation they responded. They wondered who it could be, for they did not know that Mr. MacTavish had telegraphed to Mr. James to look out for the travellers on this boat. As soon as the gangplank was run out, Mr. James boarded the vessel, and coming up to them introduced himself. He took them to the hotel; and, seeing that they had comfortable rooms, left them there, saying that he would come back a little later and take them up to spend the evening at his house.

Two or three hours later the three were climbing the road, on their way to Mr. James's house which was situated among the stumps of the ancient forest, which still stood in the suburbs of the town. Here they spent a delightful evening, and before they parted for the night it was arranged that the next morning Mr. Hughes should take Jack out for a little hunt, and try and show him one of the deer of the country.

"We don't hunt here," said Mr. James, "as you do back in the States, because we cannot. If it were practicable, I should prefer, as I should think most people would, to go out and take up a deer's track, follow him until I got within range and then, if I could, kill him; but that is impossible in the forests we have here. The trees grow over three hundred feet in height; there is much fallen timber in the woods, and the logs are from four to ten feet thick. Besides that, the great precipitation produces such a heavy undergrowth that it is impossible to go through it noiselessly. Therefore, if we want deer we are obliged here, to run the game into the water with dogs, and kill them there. It is not a sport that I greatly esteem, but at least we can kill an occasional deer when we want venison."

"I should like very much to see it done once, Mr. James," said Jack, "as most of my hunting has been done in running buffalo, or finding my game and crawling up to it; and I have been taught that was the most sportsmanlike way to do it. Yet, at the same time, it is easy to see that it cannot be done in a country such as you describe."

"Well," said Hugh, "I guess I'll let you two go and do your hunting to-morrow morning alone. I don't think that it's worth while