There were bear skins covering the floor and walls, and the furniture consisted of a table and some chairs carved out of the productive forest trees. There was a stove in the back where some wood was lying beside it, all cut and ready for use. A few pictures hanging on the walls were distinctive of the good taste of this hardy mountaineer. The most prominent of these pictures was one of the late President Roosevelt, autographed. Uncle Jeb was very proud of this and did not conceal the fact. There were no beds in this little quaint cabin, just four bunks built along the walls like berths. After unpacking their belongings and helping Uncle Jeb put the place in order they all set to, getting the noonday meal with zest. Artie stayed in the cabin peeling the potatoes, while Westy went with Uncle Jeb to fetch some water from the neighboring brook back of his place. He told Westy that this cheery little brook tinkled its silvery way down into Eagle Lake. “More trout ’n you could ever eat in a lifetime, here in this brook, son,” Uncle Jeb told Westy. “Kin hear it most any hour of the night when everything is quiet. Best company any one would want. Westy could well believe this, for the gurgling water, plashing down the rock-ribbed mountainside on its journey to Eagle Lake, was heard quite distinctly above the chirping birds and the screeching of little forest folk even at noonday. After lunch was over, Uncle Jeb told them they were at liberty to do as they wanted, for it was quite late in the day to do any exploring. He promised them, however, that he would take them on a hike the following day over some all but forgotten Indian trails. Uncle Jeb seated himself quite comfortably outside the cabin with his pipe and Artie decided he would stick around also and read. But the restless Westy, being the true scout he was, strolled off into the forest to do a little exploring on his own. He walked along noiselessly, striking into a trail that wound its precipitous way up through the mountains still further. Then suddenly it seemed to merge itself into another trail, one part running on down to the lake and the other part running straight up to a formidable looking cliff directly opposite the one that they had seen the eagles disappear from earlier in the day. Looking skyward, Westy observed that the sun was on the decline, but he figured he could make the top of the cliff and get back by supper time. After a strenuous climb he came at last to the top of the cliff that seemed to jut far out into space. Earlier in the day, when Westy had looked upwards from the lake, it had occurred to him then, that perhaps one could almost reach across from one cliff to the other. From below it really looked as though the two cliffs, jutting out on opposite sides, met in mid-air above Eagle Lake. But, as Westy scrambled out over the rocky precipice, he realized just how much the naked eye can be deceived by distance.