The Mountaineer 89 



We spent a charming day in forest, following in a 

 general way the course of the Baker River for fourteen 

 miles. 



However, there was a company of three who found 

 this day no time for dreaming. This was the "steering 

 committee." What is that? Let me explain. Follow- 

 ing the precedent of the previous year we "took the 

 beef up on the hoof." Thus three prominent people, a 

 strong man, a charming lady, and the secretary, were 

 chosen to guide this valuable part of the commissary. 

 To guide, did I say? The animal made an excellent 

 guide himself and took the whole committee at his own 

 sweet will. It has been stated that the chairman's feet 

 touched the ground three times during the first mile. 

 Eye witnesses deny this. The chairman himself de- 

 clined to be interviewed. 



Many were the streams to be crossed — first Bear 

 Creek, then came Sulphur, Rocky Creek, and Big Sandy, 

 then Little Sandy. One more stream after the latter and 

 we have reached the site selected for actual camp. Joy- 

 ously we cast aside alpenstocks and threw ourselves 

 down to await the pack train. 



We had time to observe this famous Boulder Creek. 

 It certainly was well named, for in its bed He countless 

 boulders brought down by the stream. Listening, we 

 heard their rumbling and grumbling as they rolled 

 about, protesting against the rough treatment the 

 tyrant stream had showed them. It was a sulphurous 

 stream, but we found it cooling, and soon had selected 

 our sleeping places beside its banks. Hardly had the 

 hungry company staked their claims when we began to 

 build air castles, filled with the delicious viands that Carr 

 would prepare when he arrived. 



Alas, for dreams ! A messenger arrived with the 

 word that an accident on the trail had delayed the 

 pack train and they could not get beyond Big Sandy. 

 Our air castles with their banquet halls came crashing 



