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saddle is a point of vantage。 By it you are elevated above the country；
from it you can see clearly。 Quail scuttle away to right and left； heads
ducked low； grouse boom solemnly on the rigid limbs of pines； deer
vanish through distant thickets to appear on yet more distant ridges； thence
to gaze curiously； their great ears forward； across the canon the bushes
sway violently with the passage of a cinnamon bear among them；you see
them all from your post of observation。 Your senses are always alert for
these things； you are always bending from your saddle to examine the
tracks and signs that continually offer themselves for your inspection
and interpretation。
Our trail of this summer led at a general high elevation； with
comparatively little climbing and comparatively easy traveling for days at
a time。 Then suddenly we would find ourselves on the brink of a great
box canon from three to seven thousand feet deep； several miles wide； and
utterly precipitous。 In the bottom of this canon would be good feed； fine
groves of trees； and a river of some size in which swam fish。 The trail to
the canon…bed was always bad； and generally dangerous。 In many
instances we found it bordered with the bones of horses that had failed。
The river had somehow to be forded。 We would camp a day or so in the
good feed and among the fine groves of trees； fish in the river； and then
address ourselves with much reluctance to the ascent of the other bad and
dangerous trail on the other side。 After that； in the natural course of
events； subject to variation； we could expect nice trails； the comfort of
easy travel； pines； cedars； redwoods； and joy of life until another great
cleft opened before us or another great mountain…pass barred our way。
This was the web and woof of our summer。 But through it ran the
patterns of fantastic delight such as the West alone can offer a man's utter
disbelief in them。 Some of these patterns stand out in memory with
peculiar distinctness。
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Below Farewell Gap is a wide canon with high walls of dark rock； and
down those walls run many streams of water。 They are white as snow
with the dash of their descent； but so distant that the eye cannot distinguish
their motion。 In the half light of dawn； with the yellow of sunrise behind
the mountains； they look like gauze streamers thrown out from the
windows of morning to celebrate the solemn pageant of the passing of
many hills。
Again； I know of a canon whose westerly wall is colored in the dull
rich colors； the fantastic patterns of a Moorish tapestry。 Umber； seal
brown； red； terra… cotta； orange； Nile green； emerald； purple； cobalt blue；
gray； lilac； and many other colors； all rich with the depth of satin； glow
wonderful as the craftiest textures。 Only here the fabric is five miles long
and half a mile wide。
There is no use in telling of these things。 They； and many others of
their like； are marvels； and exist； but you cannot tell about them； for the
simple reason that the average reader concludes at once you must be
exaggerating； must be carried away by the swing of words。 The cold
sober truth is； you cannot exaggerate。 They haven't made the words。
Talk as extravagantly as you wish to one who will in the most childlike
manner believe every syllable you utter。 Then take him into the Big
Country。 He will probably say； 〃Why； you didn't tell me it was going to
be anything like THIS！〃 We in the East have no standards of comparison
either as regards size or as regards colorespecially color。 Some people
once directed me to 〃The Gorge〃 on the New England coast。 I couldn't
find it。 They led me to it； and rhapsodized over its magnificent terror。 I
could have ridden a horse into the ridiculous thing。 As for color； no
Easterner believes in it when such men as Lungren or Parrish transposit it
faithfully； any more than a Westerner would believe in the autumn foliage
of our own hardwoods； or an Englishman in the glories of our gaudiest
sunsets。 They are all true。
In the mountains； the high mountains above the seven or eight
thousand foot level； grows an affair called the snow…plant。 It is； when
full grown； about two feet in height； and shaped like a loosely constructed
pine…cone set up on end。 Its entire substance is like wax； and the whole
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concernstalk； broad curling leaves； and allis a brilliant scarlet。
Sometime you will ride through the twilight of deep pine woods growing
on the slope of the mountain； a twilight intensified； rendered more sacred
to your mood by the external brilliancy of a glimpse of vivid blue sky
above dazzling snow mountains far away。 Then； in this monotone of
dark green frond and dull brown trunk and deep olive shadow； where； like
the ordered library of one with quiet tastes； nothing breaks the harmony of
unobtrusive tone； suddenly flames the vivid red of a snow…plant。 You
will never forget it。
Flowers in general seem to possess this concentrated brilliancy both
of color and of perfume。 You will ride into and out of strata of perfume
as sharply defined as are the quartz strata on the ridges。 They lie
sluggish and cloying in the hollows； too heavy to rise on the wings of the
air。
As for color； you will see all sorts of queer things。 The ordered
flower…science of your childhood has gone mad。 You recognize some of
your old friends； but strangely distorted and changed；even the dear old
〃butter 'n eggs〃 has turned pink！ Patches of purple； of red； of blue； of
yellow； of orange are laid in the hollows or on the slopes like brilliant
blankets out to dry in the sun。 The fine grasses are spangled with them；
so that in the cup of the great fierce countries the meadows seem like
beautiful green ornaments enameled with jewels。 The Mariposa Lily； on
the other hand； is a poppy…shaped flower varying from white to purple；
and with each petal decorated by an 〃eye〃 exactly like those on the great
Cecropia or Polyphemus moths； so that their effect is that of a flock of
gorgeous butterflies come to rest。 They hover over the meadows poised。
A movement would startle them to flight； only the proper movement
somehow never comes。
The great redwoods； too； add to the colored… edition impression of the
whole country。 A redwood； as perhaps you know； is a tremendous big
tree sometimes as big as twenty feet in diameter。 It is exquisitely
proportioned like a fluted column of noble height。 Its bark is slightly
furrowed longitudinally； and of a peculiar elastic appearance that lends it
an almost perfect illusion of breathing animal life。 The color is a rich
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umber red。 Sometimes in the early morning or the late afternoon； when
all the rest of the forest is cast in shadow； these massive trunks will glow
as though incandescent。 The Trail； wonderful always； here seems to pass
through the outer portals of the great flaming regions where dwell the
risings and fallings of days。
As you follow the Trail up； you will enter also the permanent
dwelling…places of the seasons。 With us each visits for the space of a few
months； then steals away to give place to the next。 Whither they go you
have not known until