104 



Sierra Club Bulletin. 



the sunny slopes. We wandered idling through the forest 

 and waded waist-deep through acres of lupines whose 

 delicate perfume filled the air and attracted myriads of 

 bees, the drowsy hum of whose wings lulled one to slum- 

 ber at the noon hour. From Moro Rock, that huge 

 dome of granite, we looked across the valley of the Mid- 

 dle Fork of the Kaweah toward the Great Western 

 Divide, and from Sunset Point watched the shadows fall. 

 Flowers there were, the old-time favorites that everybody 

 called by their first names and others so little known that 

 no one knew any gossip about them. They said that 

 the fishing was good and showed a couple of dozen 

 fishlings caught in a far-away stream — to us who had 

 come from the Kern! About the big sloping rock to 

 the south of the store we slept and on it built our camp- 

 fires, the pot-holes which freckle its surface affording the 

 best kinds of seats. A score of people there are who can 

 tell of one so large that there were forty feet inside the 

 brim. Strange tales there were, too, of how the animals 

 got in one night and ate the melons and cake and opened 

 a can of cream to go with the coffee. Two days and 

 nights were spent amid pranks and pleasures, then came 

 the main party with its official chronicler who put an end 

 to the literary career of a scribbler-errant. 



