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Sierra Club Bulletin 



fire. However, they were easily obtained and in quantity, and to- 

 gether with a damp and punky standing dead pine, perhaps eight 

 inches at the butt, they lasted till morning. The axe paid for itself 

 that night, where a smaller belt-hatchet would have been worthless. 



The night was clear and quiet. The firelight made a lovely pic- 

 ture of trees and snow against the curtain of blackness beyond. The 

 river roared a wild lullaby from the gloom of the canon below the 

 camp. Inside the reflecting fly, with the fir boughs over the snow, 

 all was dry and warm and fragrant. One could drop asleep luxuri- 

 ously in the warmth of the crackling fire and an hour or so later 

 wake up chilly when it had sunk to a bed of glowing embers. An- 

 other armful of wood purchased another hour of sleep. In this way 

 the night was spent, interrupted more frequently than would have 

 been necessary if the right sort of wood had been obtainable, but 

 comfortable enough in spite of the interruptions. 



Sunday morning was dawning as the start up the grade was made. 

 The snow was dry after the frosty night, and in spite of the pack 

 the going was all that could be expected. The road was smooth and 

 billowy, with its surface marked by the broad pads of a mountain 

 lion that had circled the camp at a respectful distance, and who was 

 apparently also heading east across the range. His trail was so fresh 

 that I half-expected to see his tawny form around each turn of the 

 road, but after a mile his tracks turned down into a thicket above 

 the river, and there was no further sign of him. 



As the morning advanced the frosty temperature of the night 

 gradually changed to the mild thawing climate of spring. The snow 

 grew softer, though still fairly good to travel on. Clouds began to 

 gather to the eastward above the crest of the range. The views up 

 and down the canon were exquisite with the sunlight on the snow, 

 the blue shadows, and the green-black masses of the trees. Late in 

 the morning two men on skis appeared coming down the road. They 

 proved to be the caretakers at Phillips' Resort, near the top, bound' 

 out for a few days of civilization, and they hospitably offered me the 

 use of their cabin for the night. 



By noon I had reached Strawberry and camped on a rocky ledge 

 blown free from snow, where a fire was soon blazing, and snow 

 a-melt for tea and soup. The day had grown so warm, and the work 

 had become so strenuous, that my clothing was wet with perspira- 

 tion and I was parched with thirst. The best part of lunch was the 



