Camping Above the Yosemite. 



93 



whole world clean ; I looked down and saw its sins dashed 

 away over the rocks, I looked up and saw its perplexities 

 float off in those climbing mists. And below me, as I 

 swung my feet over the precipice, the Valley lay fresh 

 and pure, its silver ribbon of a river sparkling in the sun. 



Then my friends came and I climbed with them up the 

 zigzag trail ; up, up, to the top of the wall, just above 

 the ledge over which the exultant Yosemite takes its leap. 

 We spread out the contents of our bandanna lunch-bags 

 and ate in the sun and slept off our weariness ; another 

 mile then, and I found my little broncho tied to a tree, 

 mounted him, and rode on ahead, alone. Hours and 

 hours, miles and miles, I rode under the high pines, 

 through the long still afternoon ; up and down the slopes, 

 into and over the little streams. Many of the Club 

 were far ahead of me and many others as far behind; 

 but the immense solitude of the forest made me doubt 

 their existence and my own, until the only thing of flesh 

 and blood left in the world seemed to be my patient 

 horse, contentedly plodding along, shaking his mane and 

 munching such young leaves as he could find. 



A campfire of huge tree-trunks shone through the 

 twilight when I reached Porcupine Flats, our first stop- 

 ping-place, and parted from my equine friend forever. 

 And in the blessed warmth of it I spent the night, I and 

 twenty or more other trampers whose dunnage-bags, and 

 the laggard mules that carried them, were still miles 

 behind. The more fortunate members lent us such 

 blankets as they could spare; we had snatches of sleep 

 and of talk and of walking under the dark pines ; and 

 so, between dozing and waking, I learned the beauty of 

 the night in the High Sierras. 



The days that followed were full of good fellowship 

 with people, and of high fellowship with mountains, 

 and mountain lakes, and lofty pines, and snowfields, 

 and sharp difficult summits. The second day's journey 

 brought us to Lake Tenaya, the "lake of the shining 

 rocks," a little jewel set among white granite slopes 



