44 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA 



enon, of course, overbore all other considerations, 

 and I at once let the ice-cone go, and began to force 

 my way out of the valley to some dome or ridge 

 sufficiently lofty to command a general view of the 

 main summits, feeling assured that I should find 

 them bannered still more gloriously ; nor was I in 

 the least disappointed. Indian Canon, through 

 which I climbed, was choked with snow that had 

 been shot down in avalanches from the high cliffs 

 on either side, rendering the ascent difficult; but 

 inspired by the roaring storm, the tedious wallow 

 ing brought no fatigue, and in four hours I gained 

 the top of a ridge above the valley, 8000 feet high. 

 And there in bold relief, like a clear painting, ap 

 peared a most imposing scene. Innumerable peaks, 

 black and sharp, rose grandly into the dark blue 

 sky, their bases set in solid white, their sides streaked 

 and splashed with snow, like ocean rocks with foam ; 

 and from every summit, all free and unconfused, 

 was streaming a beautiful silky silvery banner, 

 from half a mile to a mile in length, slender at the 

 point of attachment, then widening gradually as it 

 extended from the peak until it was about 1000 or 

 1500 feet in breadth, as near as I could estimate. 

 The cluster of peaks called the " Crown of the 

 Sierra," at the head of the Merced and Tuolumne 

 rivers, Mounts Dana, Gibbs, Conness, Lyell, 

 Maclure, Hitter, with their nameless compeers, 

 each had its own refulgent banner, waving with a 

 clearly visible motion in the sunglow, and there 

 was not a single cloud in the sky to mar their simple 

 grandeur. Fancy yourself standing on this Yosem- 

 ite ridge looking eastward. You notice a strange 



