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hike from Juniper. I’d stick to one or the other if I were you. Once you leave Parker behind, you’ve got Carver Pass to look forward to. You’ll want to be fresh when you tackle that. It’s a good three-or four-hour climb, takes you up to eleven thousand feet.”
    “Yuck,” said Julie.
    The ranger grinned at her. “About halfway up, if you’re like most folks, you’ll start wishing you were back home watching a ball game.” He marked zigzags on the map. “You’ve got switchbacks you think’ll never quit.”
    “I’m already exhausted,” Karen said, “just hearing about it.”
    “A great view from the top,” he told her. “And a good, cool wind.” He lowered his eyes to the map. “Right here, on the down side, you’ll run into the Mesquite Lakes. I don’t recommend you bother with those. You’ll know what I mean when you see them.”
    “The pits?” Julie asked.
    “That’s exactly what they are.” He drew his line along the trail. “Wilson’s just an easy three miles beyond the Mesquites, and it’s fabulous. Wooded, good campsites.” He circled Lake Wilson. “From there, you’ve got an easy shot to the Triangles. Get an early start from Wilson, and you should be there by noon.”
    “Sounds terrific,” Scott said.
    “Shall I put you down for Juniper, Parker, Wilson, and the Triangles?”
    “Fine by me.”
    He took out a form and began to fill in the information. “So, we’ve got you into the Triangles on night four. How long will you stay there?”
    “We’ll want to be within an easy hike of here by next Sunday. Maybe spend Saturday night back at Juniper.”
    The ranger marked it down. “If you want to see some new scenery, you can make a circle by following the Postpile trail south out of the Triangles.” He marked the trail, describing the lakes along the way, explaining that the return route was shorter and mostly downhill.
    “So, we’ll figure on two nights at the Triangles, then a night at Rabbit Ears, a night at Lake Tobash, and then back to Juniper. Should be a fine trip.” The ranger reversed thepermit form and pushed it toward Scott. “Would you please read this and fill out the rest?”
    Scott studied the sheet. He wrote his name and address, and the number of people in his party. He signed it, and paid the permit fee. The ranger tore off a section and gave it to him.
    “Okay, you’re all set.” He pointed at the screen door. “About a hundred yards that way, you can pick up the trail.”
    “Thanks for all your help,” Scott said.
    “That’s what I’m here for. Have a real good trip.”
    They all thanked him and left the cabin.
    “Well,” Karen said. “That was painless.”
    “The pain starts when we put our packs on.”
    “He was neat,” Benny blurted. “Did you see those neat rifles?”
    “He had a nice Winchester in that rack,” Scott said.
    “Do you suppose he lives up here all the time?” Julie asked.
    “Should’ve asked him.”
    She shrugged.
    “I imagine he goes down before the snow closes the road.”
    “It’s probably beautiful here in winter,” Karen said.
    “Yeah, at Christmas,” Benny added. Hurrying ahead of the others, he turned around and walked backward. He raised his hands like a choir leader. “‘Dash-in’ through the snooow,’” he started to sing, waving his arms.
    “Forget it, Mitch,” Julie muttered.
    He ignored her and continued to sing until she hurled a pine cone at him. It bounced off his shirt. Laughing, he whirled away and ran the final distance to the car.
    “He’s so juvenile,” Julie said, as if to herself.
    Scott smiled. “Must run in the family.” He patted Karen’s back. “Do you think you can stand this for a week?”
    “No sweat,” she said.
    When they reached the car, Scott opened the trunk and lifted out a pack. His T-shirt rode up as he crouched to setthe pack down. Karen glanced at the revealed strip of bare skin and the band of his jockey shorts. She remembered Meg’s remark,
Hope