18 The Mountaineer 
peculiar “eross country” topography, essentially abrupt and steep 
slopes at medium altitudes, numerous, although generally narrow 
and disconnected park-like areas in the high alpine and timber-line 
situations, and—particularly on the longer south and west slopes—the 
heaviest stands of large timber in the United States, aside from limited 
patches of redwood in California, furnish a rare and wholly unique 
treat to the hardy mountain explorer as well as to the lover of dense 
stands of massive, bottom-land timber. 
GRAY FLAGS OF THE HILLS 
EDMOND S. MEANY 
Olympics, Olympics, moist home of the mists, 
How sure do thy signals, thy flags on the hills, 
Call troops of cloud soldiers through tortuous twists 
To plunge where a trumpet each cataract thrills. 
Each cataract thrills, 
Thy thousand new rills, 
Wild trumpets of rivers,— 
Gray flags of the hills! 
Olympics, Olympics, thy fortress of fir, 
Thy cavernous hemlocks where world clamor stills, 
Where never an elk hears the arrow's weird whirr, 
A wilderness peace till the fierce cougar kills. 
The fierce cougar kills, 
His blood lust fulfills, 
Thy shroud for the timid, — 
Gray flags of the hills! 
Olympics, Olympics, thy swift waters run 
To grind the huge boulders in rough granite mills, 
A smile at the labor, a kiss from the sun, 
They dance as they whirl their rude hammers and drills. 
Rude hammers or drills, 
As glad worker wills; 
Thy rivers are laughing,— 
Gray flags of the hills. 
