This was the signal box of the Forest Rangers connecting with Lake Tahoe, five miles away, Truckee, eight miles, Shaffer's Mills, five miles and thence to Brockway, six miles.

In the direction we were going it was but one mile to the ranger's log-cabin in Round Meadow.
In the winter time the ranger often finds it difficult to keep the line in operation.

The damp snow falling upon the wire, clings to it, freezes and keeps receiving additions until it is bigger than a man's arm, and the weight breaks it down.
As we rode along we saw a fat porcupine, weighing full twenty-five pounds and deliberately walking up the slope near by, as if going to its den in the rocks, but, though we yelled and shouted, it scorned to notice us and indifferently went its way.

A horned owl now and then hooted and bade us begone, while a badger came out from his hole, but hurried back when he saw or smelled who we were.
Now and again we caught marvelous sunset reflections on Lake Tahoe through the trees, and on the eastern mountains was a peach glow more soft and beautiful than the famous Alpen glow.
Soon the sun was gone, and then, as we rode through the' dark aisles of the trees the stars came out and shone with dazzling splendor overhead.

Just as we left the ranger's cabin a long dark corridor of majestic trees framed in a patch of black velvet in the upper sky, and there, in the very center, shining in resplendent glory, was Venus, the evening star.
The wind began to blow a regular cyclone from the north, so the roaring of the trees told us, but we were largely sheltered, and as we looked up through the dancing and whirling tree-tops there was not a cloud in the sky.
Thus we returned to the Tavern, dramatically and gloriously bringing our delightful and easy trip to an end.
I have been rather prolix, and have entered much more fully into detail than some may deem necessary in the account of this trip, for two important reasons.