And so, here is Yellowstone—The Gem of the Mountains. Is she not worthy of the fullest measure of preservation, appreciation, and defense? Surely, the Park is an incomparable heritage in the divine legacy that is America. May her fountains never fail but go dancing eternally along, shedding joy and inspiration upon the hearts of all who seek a certain treasure. [Illustration: W. S. Chapman Park Ranger.] Appendix I YOUNG MEN CAMPING IN YELLOWSTONE WILDERNESS An adaptation of Rudyard Kipling’s “The Feet of the Young Men” By Merrill D. Beal When Yellowstone Park is opened then the smokes of council rise, Pleasant smokes ’ere yet twixt trail and trail they choose. Then the ropes and girths are tested while they pack their last supplies, Now the young men head for camps beyond the Tetons! Faith will lead them to those altars, hope will light them to that shrine, Pilot knobs will safely guide them to their goal. They must go, go, go, away from home! On the summit of the world they’re overdue. Away! The trail is clear before you, When the old spring fret comes o’er you And the Red Gods call for you! They will see the beaver falling and hear the white swan calling, They’ll behold the fishhawk fumble as bald eagle takes a tumble to rob him of his haul. They will lie alone to hear the wild geese cry. They may watch the blacktail mating as they work the chosen waters where the mackinaw are waiting And the cutthroats jumping crazy for the fly! They must go, go, go, away from here! On the summit of the world they’re overdue. Begone! The way is clear before you When the old spring fret comes o’er you, And the Red Gods call for you! They will see the lakeside lilies where the bull moose meets the cow, Or maybe silver grizzlies nurse the sow. They must climb the blue-roofed Rockies and observe that windy rift Where the baffling mountain eddies chop and change. They will learn the long day’s patience, belly down on talus drift, And hear the thud of bison on the range. It is there that they are going where the bighorn and the ewes lie, To a trusty, nimble ranger that they know; They have sworn an oath to keep it on the brink of Mitsiadazi For the Red Gods call them out and they must go. Let them go, go, go, away from home! On the summit of the world they’re overdue. Be off! The trail is clear before you When the old spring fret comes o’er you, And the Red Gods make their medicine again.