30 The Mountaineer 
was heralded with cheers as he emerged from the forest, crossed the 
river, and came into camp. A wonderful breakfast was served—not 
to the men who had brought the commissary—but to those who had 
spent the night in Three Prune Camp. 
The day was announced as a day of rest, but judging from the 
laundering, packing, unpacking, and rearranging, it might well have 
been called Labor Day. Some of the activities were, as developed 
later, preparatory to the wedding(?), and the vaudeville which was 
given under the management of Mr. Montague, a visiting member 
from the Mazamas. 
August twentieth found the Mountaineers again on the new trail 
which was seareely finished before we were passing over it. Those 
who helped construct the trail certainly deserve the highest praise, as 
it was through their efforts that the trip was made possible. Our new 
trail joined the miners’ old trail which led up to a beautiful flowery 
alpine meadow, where the heather was again greeted as an old friend. 
As an elevation of 2,500 feet had been gained during the forenoon, a 
two hours’ halt was made in order to allow the horses to rest and feed. 
We followed the Knife Edge trail on the crest of the divide between 
the Queets and the Queniult valleys, often turning to look back at 
Mount Olympus lifting its triumphant summits into the azure of the 
sky, while nestling close on its sides lay the long, glistening snow fields. 
We turned many times for a last view of Olympus and then “another 
last view of Mount Olympus.” We arrived at Camp Three Lakes 
(altitude 3,500 feet) about six-thirty o'clock that evening. At camp- 
fire reports of preliminary scouting trips and trail building were given. 
The difficulties attending such work could well be appreciated after the 
day’s experience. 
Thursday morning the announcement was made that the day’s 
march would be ‘as you like it,” thirteen miles over an excellent new 
Forest Service trail to Lake Queniult. As water was scarce on this 
trail, it was a great pleasure to find a big pan of it which Richard Olson 
had thoughtfully placed on the path, having carried from a spring 
two hundred and fifty feet below the trail. At trail builders’ camp 
“No. 3,” there was a splendid spring where many stopped for lunch, 
then after a few miles, we came to the first farm house. These people 
knowing that the Mountaineers were on their way out from the 
Olympies had provided apples and water to refresh the thirsty trav- 
elers. Kindness attended us on every side. 
At Lake Queniult there was much excitement as every one hurried 
to the store to get his mail and then to supply himself with the 
essentials—ecandy, cookies, cakes, sweet chocolate, and so on—which 
would make it possible for him to give a potlateh. After sharing in 
the distribution of gifts, he would seek his dunnage bag; select a place 
to put it; then go tothe creek or lake to enjoy the luxury of a bath. 
