The Mountaineer 49 



"King in ermine robes of crystal snow," our glacier 

 lilies, alpine firs, and even our Carbon Glacier, in verses 

 highly acceptable at evening assembly. 



In a list of camp talents, dramatics would take a 

 high place. I still seem to see bearing down upon me 

 in moments of review the chief of the Igorrotes, be- 

 jeweled with kitchen ware and garnished with dish 

 towels, managing his heavily socked feet like an abor- 

 igine. 



We had an artist, too, among us, whose sketch-book 

 was filled before his departure with pictures of distin- 

 guished characters heard or seen about the camp (not 

 omitting the solicitous mosquito), "speaking likeness" 

 most of these were, eloquent as the artist's evening 

 pantomimes. 



The skill, strength and general expertness of the 

 girls and women among the Mountaineers, impressed 

 this che-cha-ko especially. 



Their outfits and contrivances for comfort and dis- 

 patch were fairly masculine in ingenuity, and no less 

 feminine in taste. Going into a neighbor's tent one 

 day — not to borrow please, understand — lo, in the mar- 

 vellous wall-pocket were stowed away the contents of 

 a bureau and writing-desk combined, with one tiny 

 pocket for a still tinier book — the highly appropriate 

 poems of a Tentmaker — the Rubaiyat itself. 



Camp calls and camp talks are continually echoing 

 back to me. I wish I could hear the Apache yell in 

 the morning instead of the galloping milk wagons. The 

 cawing of improvised crows making merry near the 

 head of the trail, the bugle to assembly and to meals; 

 the orders down the line ; the wonderful Tyrolean yodel- 

 ing, for all once more would I barter a Boston Symph- 

 ony concert, and the clatter of the Wright aeroplane. 



The camp metaphors were so deliciously sophisti- 

 cated. "Throw out the life line" came with vividness 



