I passed a portion of the summer of 1890 at Banff, a fascinating resort in the heart of the Canadian Rockies, established and controlled by the Canadian Pacific Railway Company.

It would be very difficult to find a more charming and picturesque location for a summer resting-place. The hotel is situated about four thousand five hundred feet above the sea-level, and is nearly surrounded by lofty peaks and mountain-ranges which present a great variety of rugged outline.

To the venturesome mountaineer, the inducements to climb seem almost endless. In the immediate vicinity of the hotel, there is a choice of ascents of from six to eleven thousand feet. Most of them may be made by any one who has a cool head, a sure foot, and sufficient endurance; but there are two or three which ought to be undertaken only by experienced mountaineers. I made several of the lesser ascents alone, and, in each instance, against the advice of inexperienced and timid persons, who declared that I would either be dashed to pieces, by falling down a precipice, or devoured by bears, which are supposed to be rather plentiful.

My last climb was to the top of the middle peak of the “Sulphur Range.” It was neither difficult nor dangerous; but the view from the little table at the top was simply wonderful. As far as the eye could see, in any direction, were mountain peaks, none covered with snow, but all presenting magnificent rock-formations of a character which is quite peculiar, I believe, to that part of the great American range.

The little table at the top of the peak is about thirty feet in diameter and is covered with broken rock. While sitting there, musing upon the natural wonders by which I was surrounded, I noticed the approach of two chipmunks, coming up from the side of the mountain. They halted when they saw a strange animal; but, finally, after sitting upright for a short time and giving me a deliberate and careful stare, they concluded to come on, and presently they discovered a little clump of stunted grass growing from a crevice between the rocks, which they proceeded to despoil of its dwarfed seeds. When they had finished their scanty meal they looked about for something else to eat. Feeling sure of their desires, I crushed a soft biscuit into small pieces, and dropped them at my feet; and soon my little friends were busy eating the crumbs, apparently quite unconscious of the fact that they were within easy range of an animal supposed to have been created in the image of his Maker, but the only one which kills for the sake of killing, and boasts of the pleasure he derives from the destruction of innocent animal life.

Within a very few minutes this pair of little innocents became quite familiar, and the crumbs continued to fall until they had filled their stomachs and then the ample pouches on each side of their jaws. Thus loaded they presented a most comical appearance. When I rose to my feet their surprise made them appear still more comical. They were inclined at first to scamper off, but, upon reflection, concluded they would see the whole show; and, as I moved over to the edge of the table, to go down the mountain, they followed a short distance, and gave me a most quizzical parting glance, which said as plainly as their little faces could express their thoughts: “Good-bye. Be sure to come again, and don’t forget the biscuits.”

This is not a story; it is only an incident which proves what confiding little fools the chipmunks were to trust themselves within reach of a specimen of that tribe of superior animals which delights in the destruction of life, kills for pleasure, and enjoys the infliction of pain upon innocent and helpless creatures.

The excuse for their confiding folly consisted in the fact that they had never seen a man before.