The Mountaineer 45 



course, to east and west alike, when out-doors people 

 come together. The ride to Fairfax was full of this 

 delightful freedom. 



Reminiscence, anticipation and gayety, walked up 

 the aisle and then back again, hung over the backs or 

 sides of seats, asked "Where was So-and-so?" and 

 "Hadn't such-and-such turned up yet?" Shook hands 

 heartily in welcome, or invited you to eat luncheon with 

 a jolly group down the car. Hospitality extended even 

 to the new-comer's alpenstock, so hopelessly new and 

 bare of inscriptions. It was invited to the crowd of ex- 

 perienced ones stacked up sociably in the corner near 

 belated dunnage (going, you notice, to Fairfax though 

 not ready in forty minutes on that scaresome Thurs- 

 day). 



The Saturday walk up the trail was memorable for 

 the queer rain which kept steadily on but did not wet 

 anything perceptibly for its pains, though it freshened 

 the fragrant twin-flowers in luxuriant hollows and 

 pretty slopes; for the uselessness of the alpenstock as 

 yet, but which was never to be left alone a minute by 

 any wayside resting place ; for the individuality shown 

 in costumes, particularly the one protected by an olive 

 poncho cape which could also serve other protective 

 uses, topped by a fetching straw hat on which a lovely 

 pine branch was frescoed and finished off by little, 

 trim, tall boots that fairly flew along and up, up, up. 

 There was that halt for luncheon by the brook over- 

 grown with alders, and then the tramp, tramp, tramp 

 again along the lovely trail. At night the flaring, roar- 

 ing fire and expeditiously gotten supper, the friendly 

 drying of moist garments, and the kindliness of all 

 these strangers, aroused in the captivated new-comer a 

 sense of exultation that interesting as all was so far, it 

 was but a faint promise of excitements to come. 



There was no first view of Rainier from the trail 

 next day. Fogs and clouds kept that in store. But 



