288 OUR NATIONAL PARKS 



standing erect and uninjured, as if unconscious 

 that anything out of the common had happened. 

 Tracing the ravine alongside the avalanche, I 

 saw many trees whose roots had been laid bare, 

 and in one instance discovered a Sequoia about 

 fifteen feet in diameter growing above an old 

 prostrate trunk that seemed to belong to a 

 former generation. This slip had occurred seven 

 or eight years ago, and I was glad to find that 

 not only were most of the Big Trees uninjured, 

 but that many companies of hopeful seedlings 

 and saplings were growing confidently on the 

 fresh soil along the broken front of the ava- 

 lanche. These young trees were already eight or 

 ten feet high, and were shooting up vigorously, 

 as if sure of eternal life, though young pines, 

 firs, and libocedrus were runing a race with them 

 for the sunshine with an even start. Farther 

 down the ravine I counted five hundred and 

 thirty-six promising young Sequoias on a bed of 

 rough bouldery soil not exceeding two acres in 

 extent. 



The Fresno Big Trees covered an area of 

 about four square miles, and while wandering 

 about surveying the boundaries of the grove, 

 anxious to see every tree, I came suddenly on a 

 handsome log cabin, richly embowered and so 

 fresh and unweathered it was still redolent of 

 gum and balsam like a newly felled tree. Stroll- 

 ing forward, wondering who could have built it, 



