308 OUR NATIONAL PARKS 



lighted, where heavy branches broken off by- 

 snow had accumulated, or around some vener- 

 able giant whose head had been stricken off by 

 lightning. 



I tethered Brownie on the edge of a little 

 meadow beside a stream a good safe way off, and 

 then cautiously chose a camp for myself in a big 

 stout hollow trunk not likely to be crushed by 

 the fall of burning trees, and made a bed of 

 ferns and boughs in it. The night, however, and 

 the strange wild fireworks were too beautiful and 

 exciting to allow much sleep. There was no 

 danger of being chased and hemmed in, for in 

 the main forest belt of the Sierra, even when 

 swift winds are blowing, fires seldom or never 

 sweep over the trees in broad all-embracing 

 sheets as they do in the dense Eocky Moun- 

 tain woods and in those of the Cascade Moun- 

 tains of Oregon and Washington. Here they 

 creep from tree to tree with tranquil deliberation, 

 allowing close observation, though caution is re- 

 quired in venturing around the burning giants 

 to avoid falling limbs and knots and fragments 

 from dead shattered tops. Though the day was 

 best for study, I sauntered about night after 

 night, learning what I could and admiring the 

 wonderful show vividly displayed in the lonely 

 darkness, the ground-fire advancing in long 

 crooked fines gently grazing and smoking on the 

 close-pressed leaves, springing up in thousands 



