AUG. 3, 1907.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
: 169 

“*No tira?’ I said, questioningly. 
“*No tira,’ they replied, laughing. 
“All right,’ I replied, after appearing to hesi- 
tate a little. ‘Lay down gun.’ 
“IT made signs to them to put their guns on 
the ground. Still laughing, and after exchang- 
ing a word or two in their own language, one 
of them laid down his gun, while the other, re- 
tiring a step behind him, covertly cocked his 
own piece. 
“<“Bueno!’ I said, pretending not to see any- 
thing suspicious in this. ‘Indian now brodder. 
White man brodder.’ 
“IT then put my left arm out of the hole, drew 
myself up a little, and raising my right hand 
swiftly through the orifice beside my body, shot 
the savage who held the musket before he 
could level it. 
“With a yell of surprise the foremost savage 
caught up his gun; but as he cocked it, I fired 
and brought him to the ground.” 
“A cool bit of work,” observed one of the 
little party of listeners. 
“Well, I don’t know about the cool part,” re- 
plied the narrator. ‘My recollection is that I 
was terribly scared. I felt decidedly thankful 
that I had escaped the two savages; but I did 
not know how many more there might be close 
by. ‘I jumped out quickly, I assure you, picked 
up the loaded guns, and then lay behind the 
boiler for an hour, on the lookout. But these 
two were all there were in the vicinity. I 
found their camp and horses later in the fore- 
noon and turned the horses loose, for I knew 
I could not get down to the post-road with 
them. 
“Although I was about the mine for a week, 
sifting over those ant-hills, early and late, I 
saw no more Apaches.” 
“And the topazes?” I inquired. 
“T found a hundred and forty-two more of 
those stones,” was the reply; “and the money 
that I realized from them was what first set me 
on my feet in the Territory.” 
Paradise Park.* 
WHEN summer comes we Americans: prefer 
rather to secure passage for Europe than to 
buy a ticket for the Pacific Coast; to mourn 
over the ruins of a past civilization than to 
glory in the might of our own; to shed senti- 
mental tears over the tomb of Napoleon than 
to jeopardize our precious lives amid the wilds 
of our unknown west; to some of us the dark, 
dingy crypt of a medieval cathedral seems more 
enchanting than the wild, natural beauty of the 
Rockies. The ignorance of “globe trotting” 
Americans concerning the wonders ‘of their own 
land is astounding. The country west of the 
Rockies, however, is becoming more popular 
each year and the day will come when our much 
traveled eastern friends will know that the 
Yoserhite Valley is not located in Yellowstone 
Park and when Paradise Park shall be known in 
New York as well as in Seattle. 
Standing on the® veranda of the hotel in 
Seattle, a marvelous panorama is presented to 
the view. To the west lies Puget Sound with 
the snow-clad Olympic Range beyond. To the 
east lies Lake Washington, a body of fresh 
water twenty miles in length and three in width, 
with the Cascade Range, also snow-capped, in 
the background. While to the south rises 
Mount Rainier, 14,444 feet in height, an almost 
symmetrical cone snow white and glistening in 
the morning sunlight. On the south side of this 
great extinct volcano, just where the green 
forests end and snow begins, lies Paradise Park. 
One August afternoon we left Tacoma, thirty 
miles south of Seattle, on our wheels and began 
our seventy-mile journey to the park. We had 
decided to use our “bikes” as far as possible 
and to make the balance of the trip on foot. 
For some distance out of Tacoma we found an 
excellent bicycle path which finally merged into 
a fairly good road leading across the prairie to 
the south. At 9 P. M. we reached Eatonville, 
twenty-five miles from Tacoma. The genial 
proprietor of the tavern guided us a half-mile 
further down the road and assigned two of us 
*See cover and supplement. 
to a single bed. We were fortunate. The only other 
occupants of the room wete a woodchopper 
and a dog, the latter of whom did not snore. 
The next morning we were off early. For 
nine miles beyond Eatonville a rough cordu- 
roy road led up a very steep ascent. We wished 
that our wheels were in Tacoma. Perseverance 
won, however, and shortly after noon we began 
to descend. Elba, at the foot of the mountain, 
was our mid-day resting place. 
We had now reached our furthest point south 
and began to travel eastward, following up the 
valley of a milky, glacial stream. A good road 
led through the damp, dark forests. On either 
side rose the huge pillars of fir like the columns 
of a great cathedral. A hundred feet from the 
ground the first branches appeared, interming- 
ling and forming a canopy through which 
scarcely a ray of sunlight penetrated. The deep 
silence was broken only by the occasional chat- 
ter of a squirrel. 
Hour after hour we climbed. Evening comes 
on at an early hour in the forest, of which fact 
one of our number was rather roughly reminded 
by colliding with a cedar stump. 
to be abandoned. 
kept up at a very brisk pace. 
Riding had 
Even walking could not be 
Soon darkness 

COLONEL JAMES 
“Pious Jeems,”’ of 
GORDON, OF MISSISSIPPI. 
the “‘uld Guard.” 
settled down and it was only by the aids of a 
small Jantern that we were able to find our way 
at all. Finally, well on toward midnight, we 
saw a light through the trees. We were at 
Longmeyer Springs, sixty miles from Tacoma. 
The next morning we were anxious for a 
glimpse of Rainier. Since leaving the little 
prairie south of Tacoma we had been passing 
through a great tunnel, the dense forests com- 
pletely obstructing any view we might have 
had of the mountain. We stepped out from the 
cedar shack where we had spent the night and 
walked out into the clearing. As we turned we 
were startled by the proximity of the giant 
peak, gleaming in the morning sunlight. <A 
shudder passed over us as we thought of what 
the result would be should the sleeping volcano 
throw off her white grave-clothes and pour forth 
fire and lava as she did centuries ago. A thrill 
of admiration, however, for the romantic beauty 
of the scene dispelled all other thought and 
feeling. We were already well repaid for the 
hard journey of the previous day. Was it pos- 
s.ble for Paradise Park itself to be more en- 
chanting? We turned toward the trail. Bicycles, 
useless for the last few miles even by daylight, 
were now abandoned, stout walking sticks pro- 
cured and we began the steep eight-mile climb. 
We crossed and recrossed the glacial stream 
which marked our course. A rumbling noise 
was heard which grew into a distinct roar as 
we proceeded. (Spray began to sprinkle our 
faces and the next moment we saw the water 
leaping from a ledge one hundred feet above us 
and striking the rocks one hundred and fifty 
feet below. It was a magnificent waterfall and - 
not even an hour’s halt did justice to the scene. 
It was with great reluctance that we finally 
turned away. 
An hour later we again sat down to rest. We 
were begining to feel the effect of the high alti- 
tude. A half hour more climbing we knew 
would put us in the park, seven thousand feet 
above Puget Sound. We picked up our sticks 
and started forward. As the leader of the party 
stepped around a sharp turn in the path, a half 
formed exclamation died upon his lips. We 
stepped to his side and for some minutes we 
all stood in silence. 
Our first glinypse of Paradise Park will never 
be forgotten. From the valley into which we 
had been so abruptly ushered Rainier still rose 
8,000 feet above us, pure white except where the 
gray rocks pierced the snow covering. To the 
right, half way down from the summit, stood 
Gibraltar Rock, grim and bald. Further to the 
right and on all sides rose rough black peaks, 
in striking contrast to the white-crowned giant. 
Near at hand on either side of us green carpets 
stretched away. Sinking down in a soft spot, 
we began to notice the myriads of flowers to be 
seen upon eyery hand. Yonder a blue-bell 
nodded an honest welcome, while the butter- 
cups smiled up at us from a thousand different 
points. Then once more we turned to gaze 
upon the peak, but were aroused by a chilliness 
creeping over us and started toward the canvas- 
covered hut which we saw in the distance. Here 
for six weeks during the summér a man with his 
wife and children keeps 2n open lodging for 
travelers who, like ourselves, find their way 
into the valley. 
It was noon. As we sat down to our meal 
we were brought to a realization ‘of the earth- 
iness of our exalted retreat. The irrepressible 
mosquito was upon us by the thousand, and 
flies, wasps, yellow-jackets and innumerable va- 
rieties of insect life as well. The cow sought 
refuge by standing in the smoke of a smudge. 
The horse, tied to a nearby stake, pranced about 
in sore distress. 
A boy of nine offered to be our guide for the 
afternoon exploration. With bare feet and a 
sharp stick he hustled ahead, caring neither for 
snow, ice nor pricking vines. We followed him 
across a stretch of green grass, crossed a bank 
of snow and tackled a steep ascent. 
As we halted at the top we began to 
morntains and valleys in their true relationship. 
The deen cut behind us marked the path of our 
approach as well as the way of escape of our 
friendly river. Yes, there was the river itself 
bounding from an ice bank; a glacier, surely, 
rough, melting and dirty. Further up the debris 
arranged itself in long moraines, the central 
portion becoming less dingy. Our eyes followed 
up the course of the ice river. Just across from 
vs was the store house of ice and snow from 
which the glacier starts. Vast fields of snow 
seem to converge toward this point, the main 
portion sweeping down from the broad white 
crater itself. The setting sun, intensifying the 
gleaming white in places, cast long shadows in 
others. 
We climbed still higher to a point from which 
the ascent to the summit is made, one thousand 
see 
1 
f 
feet above the valley. We were now well” up 
above the snow line. As we turned squarely 
about and looked back at the array of dark 
hills, behold, peering over the highest ridge 
two more white peaks, Mount Jefferson and 
Mount St. Helens. Each view which we had 
had during the day had been a wonder and a 
revelation, but only a preparation for the scene 
which now lay before us. The rays trom the 
stn, which had disappeared from our view some 
minutes before, still lighted up the summits ot 
the snow peaks. Only great, substantial things 
could be seen through the growing darkness; 
the rueged peak of the mountain upon whose 
side we were standing; the tops of her sister 
peaks just visible over the ridge of dark hills, 
a tall symmetrical cone rising from the dark 
indistinguishable below. Over all else a dull 
gray covering of mist. 
As we sat there in silence our little business 
affairs, Our worriments, our worldly pleasures 
were all forgotten. Paradise Park indeed! 
NORMAN JAY BRUEN. 

