A hermit, you know, usually has not much work to do. Those old fellows who used to hide themselves in caves and deserts, in old times, spent most of their days in solemn meditation; but I am not just that kind of a hermit. To sit still and think all the time would be the hardest work in the world for me. The only necessary work that falls to my lot at present is keeping the camp, preparing food and looking after a small band of horses that are running at large in the park. My first task is to ride a few miles up the park and see that the horses are on their proper range; and after that, all the day is free for reading or writing or hunting or wandering about through the mountains, finding fresh varieties of flowers or exploring unknown cañons or climbing the tall crags to look across the mountains to the vast plains that stretch away as far as the eye can reach, like a blue sea. In these daily rides through the wild mountains there is so much that is new and strange to Eastern eyes, so much that is beautiful and grand, so many kinds of curious wild animals, such quantities of gay flowers never seen in the States, that there is enough pleasure in them to make up for all the loneliness of these few weeks. [Illustration: SOME OF THE UNSOCIABLE NEIGHBORS.] We seem to be alone most of the time—Monkey, Gip, and I—and that is why we are such friends; but we are not alone so much as we seem to be. There are plenty of neighbors upon the mountain-sides, and some that wander through the park; but they are so very unsociable that when they see us coming they walk the other way. But then it is true, to be sure, that some of them are not always very kindly treated by us when we meet them, so perhaps we are to blame. There are two families of neighbors, who live in caves on the mountain, for whom I have a great respect. I would not give them offense on any account, for they are very powerful, and usually have things all their own way in the neighborhood. They are the brown bears and the gray bears. Often I see their great fresh foot-prints in the mud along the creeks when I go out in the early morning. The tracks look as if a man with very large, broad feet had been running bare-footed through the mire. I never follow their trail very far to see where they have gone, for I prefer to have a friend or two with me when I go to make the acquaintance of these mighty gentlemen or the members of their families.