ii8 



Sierra Club Bulletin. 



I could have tweaked its nose from where I lay, had I 

 been awake. Marsh left scraps for it as assurance that 

 he bore it no ill will. Guess it was time for us to depart. 



Late Wednesday morning we started down the moun- 

 tain. Ibex Meadow was firm for once. Those "go- 

 devils" became pretty good little devils — stout little 

 devils. They rolled over like cart wheels, side over side, 

 end over end, down slopes through thickets along the 

 bottom of the canon. When the slope was fairly steep, 

 we rode on the pack ; when too steep, the sled rode with 

 its runners in the air. One sled stood the test to the 

 end. I nearly coasted over Lone Pine Falls in my enthu- 

 siasm. From Hunter's Camp, after hanging the loaded 

 sleds in a tree, we tramped to Lone Pine. As we came 

 up the lane through the willows in the darkness, a silent 

 figure waiting at the bars came swiftly to meet my com- 

 panion, while a little tow-headed fellow in the home gave 

 him a hug that was enthusiasm itself. I was glad then 

 that I had not urged him out along that cliff. The exulta- 

 tion of success is a strong incentive to daring, but the 

 home call is stronger. 



