VOL. Il. | Flora of the Olympics. 277 
The mountain slope now grew rocky and far more steep. Where 
a scant covering of earth overlaid the otherwise bare rock were 
great patches of the sweet mountain pink (Phlox Douglasii, var. 
diffusa), the soft cushions of whose intermingled leaves and branches, 
seconded by the delicious scent of its white or pink flowers, offer as 
luxurious a pillow to the warm head and panting frame as any 
Sybarite could choose. Then, as with body stretched out its full 
length at an angle of 20 or 30 degrees, bathed in the warm rays 
of the afternoon sun, with eyes looking upward and outward and 
meeting nothing but the blue sky, except it be a majestic white 
cloud - pile moving across the field of view not far overhead, 
or a butterfly flitting just above; hearing nothing but the plaintive 
whistle of the mountain marmot, or the roar of some Alpine cat- 
aract far below, all cares of the world vanish for the instant; one 
seems to be upon some vast, quiet sea, and instinctively some 
such soothing couplet as that of Buchanan Reid’s occurs to the 
mind: 
‘* My soul to-day is far away, 
Sailing the Vesuvian Bay.” 
But with a start I realize that I am getting cold, that the even- 
ing is advancing, and that the top has not yet been gained. Near 
at hand, my senses steeped in the incense from its leaves, was the 
bush-alder (Adnus viridis), just in flower, and right under it the 
yellow adder’s-tongue (Z7ythronium grandiflorum, var.?); next 
the pretty mountain -ash (Pirus sambucifolia), Just here a bear 
started up and went plunging down the steep slope at a fearful gait, 
and altogether too quickly for the expert pistol of my companion. 
Up a little ravine, at an angle of fully 80 degrees, ran the trail, 
well marked and even scored by the feet of deer. How do they 
possibly ascend such slopes? Had it not been for the almost con- 
tinuous assistance given us by bushes, plants or jutting rocks, we 
would have been compelled to beat a retreat a number of times. 
The whistle or cry of the marmot grew more frequent; where a 
combination of soil and crevices of rock would admit of it, were 
‘numerous holes of the mountain beaver. Jutting out from the cliff- 
faces was a plant belonging to a class much sought after by the In- 
_ dians for its food-producing roots, called ‘‘cous,’’ and botanically 
Peucedanum. This species (P. Hallit), we found no exception to 
— the rule, and we ate or rather chewed several of its fibrous, parsnip- 
