The Mountaineer 91 



pitched. Though the strong men vaHantly attacked the 

 wiry underbrush with hatchets, and produced a fairly 

 comfortable camp, it was not a satisfactory situation. 

 Our Outing Committee were not the men to let well 

 enough alone, and at dawn scouts were out looking for 

 a better site for permanent camp. They found an ideal 

 spot in a meadow a mile beyond, and armed with knives 

 and axes the men bent to the task of cutting a trail to 

 the meadow. It seemed almost incredible, but in thirty 

 minutes the trail was complete. 



Our horses had been sent back for more supplies, 

 and the members of the party trudged back and forth 

 between the old camp and the new, moving baggage and 

 commissary. Any weariness faded in the beauty of the 

 scene of this, our permanent camp. It was a charming 

 alpine pasture bordered by a palisade of pines. No 

 decorated walls of a palace could equal the setting of 

 our new home. 



Greater than all else, directly before us, in stu- 

 pendous grandeur, rose the magnificent heights of Mt. 

 Baker, our destination and our inspiration. 



Settled in the new camp, our energetic leader mar- 

 shalled the company for a practice trip. Three hours 

 were spent in practice in the snow and ice work. In 

 short. Prof. Curtis conducted a class in mountaineering. 

 Special attention was given to manipulation of alpen- 

 stocks and use of feet on icy slopes. The class was evi- 

 dently a great success, for the party returned radiant and 

 exhilarated, but with the appetites of ravening wolves. 



On Thursday morning a longer trip was scheduled. 

 Preparations were elaborately made — particularly with 

 grease paint to prevent sunburn. One moment and we 

 are in civilized company. Then, Presto, Change! Are 

 these the same people? No, these are veritable car- 

 toons of men, black-face artists and human totem poles. 

 "Painted like the sky of morning, wildly glaring at each 

 other." 



