The Mountaineer 29 



set; the moon sailing over Willis Wall. I live again 

 through the tramps, the climbs, the comradeship of the 

 "good fellows," men and woman, the stimulating ex- 

 change of ideas, the laugh, the song, the story, the 

 hushed enjoyment of majestic scenes. Even the mem- 

 ory of the mosquitoes is hallowed. And I smell the 

 wood smoke and see the great logs blazing and the 

 sparks flying. How far removed and unimportant all 

 petty things were, what an Arcadia this world seemed, 

 as we looked into the campfire. And I see the Igorrotes, 

 as far out-Igorroting those on the 'Tay Streak" as 

 they themselves were outdone by the Mountaineers in 

 their ordinary climbing rigs and make-up. I hear 

 again the sonorous accents of Rain-in-the-Face, har- 

 anguing the palefaces (pale, forsooth!); the familiar 

 story of Stickeen, never told with a better setting; the 

 pathetic tale of "Willie," too sad for tears! And, oh, 

 for just one more taste of that maple wax ! 



And other Western campflres and experiences come 

 to mind — with the Sierras, the Mazamas, with a com- 

 panion, alone; and I examine my outfit, plan improve- 

 ments for another season, study maps — and go to bed. 



FLOWERS OF THE MOUNTAIN. 



Winona Bailey. 



The Outing Committee had promised the "botany 

 bunch" for the Rainier trip such display of flowers as 

 they had never dreamed of, and they kept their prom- 

 ise. W^hen camp was first made in Moraine Park the 

 snow had so recently melted in most places that only 

 a few tiny green leaves gave promise of gardens of 

 loveliness three weeks later. A few flowers like the fur- 

 clad Western or Mountain anemone [pulsatilla occi- 

 denfalis) had already ventured out from beneath their 

 winter coverings. But even the hardy sweet colt's 



