Baree had not killed, but he had conquered. His first great day—or night—had come. The world was filled with a new promise for him, as vast as the night itself.
Since the publication of my two animal books,“Kazan” and “The Grizzly King,” I have received somany hundreds of letters from friends of wild animallife, all of which were more or less of an enquiringnature, that I have been encouraged to incorporatein this preface of the third of my series—“Baree, Sonof Kazan”—something more of my desire and hopein writing of wild life, and something of the foundationof fact whereupon this and its companion bookshave been written.
I have always disliked the preaching of sermons inthe pages of romance. It is like placing a halterabout an unsuspecting reader’s neck and dragginghim into paths for which he may have no liking. Butif fact and truth produce in the reader’s mind amessage for himself, then a work has been done.That is what I hope for in my nature books. TheAmerican people are not and never have been loversof wild life. As a nation we have gone after N