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full of fish。 A little stream ran from it by our very elbows。 The slight
elevation was level； and covered with enough soil to offer a fairly good
substructure for our beds。 The flat in which was the lake reached on up
narrower and narrower to the foot of the last slope； furnishing for the
horses an admirable natural corral about a mile long。 And the view was
magnificent。
First of all there were the mountains above us； towering grandly serene
against the sky of morning； then all about us the tumultuous slabs and
boulders and blocks of granite among which dare…devil and hardy little
trees clung to a footing as though in defiance of some great force exerted
against them； then below us a sheer drop； into which our brook plunged；
with its suggestion of depths； and finally beyond those depths the giant
peaks of the highest Sierras rising lofty as the sky； shrouded in a calm
and stately peace。
Next day the Tenderfoot and I climbed to the top。 Wes decided at the
last minute that he hadn't lost any mountains； and would prefer to fish。
The ascent was accompanied by much breathlessness and a heavy
pounding of our hearts； so that we were forced to stop every twenty feet to
recover our physical balance。 Each step upward dragged at our feet like
a leaden weight。 Yet once we were on the level； or once we ceased our
very real exertions for a second or so； the difficulty left us； and we
breathed as easily as in the lower altitudes。
The air itself was of a quality impossible to describe to you unless you
have traveled in the high countries。 I know it is trite to say that it had the
exhilaration of wine； yet I can find no better simile。 We shouted and
whooped and breathed deep and wanted to do things。
The immediate surroundings of that mountain peak were absolutely
barren and absolutely still。 How it was accomplished so high up I do not
know； but the entire structure on which we movedI cannot say walked
was composed of huge granite slabs。 Sometimes these were laid side by
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side like exaggerated paving flags； but oftener they were up… ended； piled
in a confusion over which we had precariously to scramble。 And the
silence。 It was so still that the very ringing in our ears came to a
prominence absurd and almost terrifying。 The wind swept by noiseless；
because it had nothing movable to startle into noise。 The solid eternal
granite lay heavy in its statics across the possibility of even a whisper。
The blue vault of heaven seemed emptied of sound。
But the wind did stream by unceasingly； weird in the
unaccustomedness of its silence。 And the sky was blue as a turquoise；
and the sun burned fiercely； and the air was cold as the water of a
mountain spring。
We stretched ourselves behind a slab of granite； and ate the luncheon
we had brought； cold venison steak and bread。 By and by a marvelous
thing happened。 A flash of wings sparkled in the air； a brave little voice
challenged us cheerily； a pert tiny rock… wren flirted his tail and darted his
wings and wanted to know what we were thinking of anyway to enter his
especial territory。 And shortly from nowhere appeared two Canada Jays；
silent as the wind itself； hoping for a share in our meal。 Then the
Tenderfoot discovered in a niche some strange； hardy alpine flowers。 So
we established a connection； through these wondrous brave children of the
great mother； with the world of living things。
After we had eaten； which was the very first thing we did； we walked
to the edge of the main crest and looked over。 That edge went straight
down。 I do not know how far； except that even in contemplation we
entirely lost our breaths； before we had fallen half way to the bottom。
Then intervened a ledge； and in the ledge was a round glacier lake of the
very deepest and richest ultramarine you can find among your paint…tubes；
and on the lake floated cakes of dazzling white ice。 That was enough for
the moment。
Next we leaped at one bound direct down to some brown hazy liquid
shot with the tenderest filaments of white。 After analysis we discovered
the hazy brown liquid to be the earth of the plains； and the filaments of
white to be roads。 Thus instructed we made out specks which were
towns。 That was all。
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The rest was too insignificant to classify without the aid of a
microscope。
And afterwards； across those plains； oh； many； many leagues； were the
Inyo and Panamit mountains； and beyond them Nevada and Arizona； and
blue mountains； and bluer； and still bluer rising； rising； rising higher and
higher until at the level of the eye they blended with the heavens and were
lost somewhere away out beyond the edge of the world。
We said nothing； but looked for a long time。 Then we turned inland
to the wonderful great titans of mountains clear…cut in the crystalline air。
Never was such air。 Crystalline is the only word which will describe it；
for almost it seemed that it would ring clearly when struck； so sparkling
and delicate and fragile was it。 The crags and fissures across the way
two miles across the waywere revealed through it as through some
medium whose transparence was absolute。 They challenged the eye；
stereoscopic in their relief。 Were it not for the belittling effects of the
distance； we felt that we might count the frost seams or the glacial
scorings on every granite apron。 Far below we saw the irregular outline
of our lake。 It looked like a pond a few hundred feet down。 Then we
made out a pin…point of white moving leisurely near its border。 After a
while we realized that the pin…point of white was one of our pack…horses；
and immediately the flat little scene shot backwards as though moved
from behind and acknowledged its due number of miles。 The miniature
crags at its back became gigantic； the peaks beyond grew thousands of feet
in the establishment of a proportion which the lack of 〃atmosphere〃 had
denied。 We never succeeded in getting adequate photographs。 As well
take pictures of any eroded little arroyo or granite canon。 Relative sizes
do not exist； unless pointed out。
〃See that speck there？〃 we explain。 〃That's a big pine…tree。 So by
that you can see how tremendous those cliffs really are。〃
And our guest looks incredulously at the speck。
There was snow； of course； lying cold in the hot sun。 This
phenomenon always impresses a man when first he sees it。 Often I have
ridden with my sleeves rolled up and the front of my shirt open； over drifts
whose edges； even； dripped no water。 The direct rays seem to have
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absolutely no effect。 A scientific explanation I have never heard
expressed； but I suppose the cold nights freeze the drifts and pack them so
hard that the short noon heat cannot penetrate their density。 I may be
quite wrong as to my reason； but I am entirely correct as to my fact。
Another curious thing is that we met our mosquitoes only rarely below
the snow…line。 The camping in the Sierras is ideal for lack of these pests。
They never bite hard nor stay long even when found。 But just as sure as
we approached snow； then we renewed acquaintance with our old friends
of the north woods。
It is analogous to the fact that the farther north you go into the fur
countries； the more abundant they become。
By and by it was time to descend。 The camp lay directly below us。
We decided to go to it straight； and so stepped off on