WHERE ROLLS THE 

 OREGON 



i 



THREE-ARCH ROCKS RESERVATION 



was lifting. The thick, wet 

 drift that had threatened us on Tilla- 

 mook Bar stood clear of the shoul- 

 dering sea to the westward, and in 

 toward shore, like an upper sea, 

 hung at the fir-girt middles of the mountains, as 

 level and as gray as the sea below. There was now 

 no breeze. The long, smooth swell of the Pacific 

 swung under us and in, until it whitened at the 

 base of three dark rocks that lay in our course, 

 and which now began to take on form out of the 

 foggy distance. Gulls were flying over us; lines 

 of black cormorants and crowds of murres were 

 winging past toward the rocks; but we were still 



