“Oh, we can eat them, all right,” said Ed. “When it comes to eating trout, I’ll take a handicap with any Indian youth and beat him to it.” “It’s going to be pleasant to-night,” said Westy. “We can just sleep under a tree.” “I hope it won’t be _too_ pleasant,” said Ed. “You make me tired,” laughed Westy. CHAPTER VIII ON THE WAY To be sure, a hike of thirty miles is no exploit, not in the field of scouting, certainly. If the road went straight to the park, then the boys could hardly hope to face that doubter, Mr. Wilde, with any consciousness of glory. On the time-table map which Westy had left in the train, the way from Livingston to Gardiner seemed very simple. A little branch of the Northern Pacific Railroad connected the two places with a straight line. And a road seemed to parallel this. But maps are very seductive things. You have only to follow a road with your lead pencil to reach your destination. Nature’s obstacles are not always set forth upon your map. Lines parallel on a map are often not within sight of each other on the rugged face of Nature. A little, round dot, a village, is seen close to a road. But when you explore the road the village is found to nestle coyly a mile or two back. So if what the boys had undertaken was not so very _big_, at least it held out the prospect of being not so very little. But big or little, something _big_ did happen among those lonely mountains that very day, an exploit of the first order. It was a bizarre adventure not uncommon in the Far West and it had an important bearing on the visit of these three scouts to the Yellowstone Park. And Westy Martin, hiking along that quiet, winding, western road, dissatisfied with himself because of what a chance acquaintance had said to him, was face to face with the biggest opportunity in all his young scout life. He did not know it, but he was walking headlong into it. He had been proud when he had won the stalking badge. He was soon to know that this badge meant something and that it was no toy or gewgaw. “I suppose it’s pretty wild on Pelican Cone,” said Warde, as they hiked along. They were all cheerful for they were sure of their way for the present and were not disposed to borrow trouble. It was a pleasant summer morning, the sun shone bright on the rock-ribbed mountains, a fresh, invigorating breeze blew in their faces, birds sang in the neighboring trees, all Nature seemed kindly disposed toward their little adventure.