ON THE EDGE OF PARADISE VALLEY
From the springs a four-mile scramble through the woods and up the rocky
beds of ancient waterways brought the party to a place where the
Nisqually River must be crossed. Here a single giant tree had been
felled so as to span the torrent, and its upper surface roughly hewn to
a level. A short distance above the rude bridge rose the frowning front
of a glacier. Although its ice was mud-stained and honeycombed by
countless rivulets that poured from its upper surface in tiny cascades,
it still formed an inspiring spectacle, and one that filled Bonny with
wondering admiration, for it was his first glacier.
From an arched ice cavern at its base poured the milk-white river, with
a hollow roaring, and such force that fair-sized bowlders were swept
down its channel as though they were so many sticks of wood. The whole
scene was of such fascinating interest that it very nearly brought poor
Bonny to grief.
He had dismounted, and was preparing to follow M. Filbert and Alaric,
who had already led their ponies in safety across the narrow bridge.
These animals had crossed so readily that he supposed his would do the
same, and, as he stepped out on the great log, was paying far more
attention to the glacier than to it. Suddenly he was jerked violently
backward, pitched headlong down the bank, and barely saved himself from
the icy torrent by clutching at a friendly bush. At the same moment his
pony, who had no confidence in mountain bridges, dashed into the roaring
stream, was instantly swept from his footing, rolled over and over, and
borne struggling away towards what seemed certain destruction. By the
good fortune that attends all fools, animals as well as human, he
managed to escape both drowning and broken bones, and finally regained
his feet on a friendly reef that projected into the river a quarter of a
mile below the bridge. There he stood trembling, bruised, and dripping
when Bonny and one of the Indians, who had hastened down the bank to
discover his fate, found him a few minutes later. From that time forth
he was the meekest and most docile pony imaginable, suffering himself
not only to be led over the log bridge without remonstrance, but
wherever else his young master desired.
[Illustration: "BONNY WAS JERKED VIOLENTLY BACKWARD"]
From the scene of this incident a hard scramble up a heavily timbered
slope, so precipitous that it could only be overcome by a series of
zigzags, lifted the expedition a thousand feet above the glacier, and
carried them into a park-like meadow so carpeted and fringed with
flowers as to throw M. Filbert into an ecstasy of delight. The remainder
of that day's ride led through many more of these exquisite,
flower-decked mountain meadows separated by belts of timber, and rising
one above the other, after the manner of terraces.
Largest and most beautiful of them all was Paradise Valley, a broad
sweep of flower-painted sward dotted with graceful clumps of alpine firs
and hemlocks, and nestled at the base of a mighty frowning cliff. It was
bisected by a rippling stream that entered its upper end by a shimmering
fall of nearly one thousand feet in height.
High above this lovely valley, and close to the line where snow and
timber met, M. Filbert called a halt, and ordered the permanent camp to
be pitched. Although this point was less than half-way to the top of the
mountain, or only 6500 feet above sea-level, the ponies could climb no
higher, and, after being unladen, were sent back in charge of the
packers into Paradise Valley, where they might fatten on its juicy
grasses until needed for the return trip.
From here, then, the rugged slope of ice, snow, and rock that stretched
indefinitely upward towards the far-away shining summit must be
traversed on foot or not at all. But this was not to be done now, nor
for days to come, during which the camp just pitched was to be the base
of a wide-spread series of explorations.
A few straggling hemlocks, so bent by the ice-laden winds that swept
down the mountain-side in winter that they looked like decrepit old men,
furnished shelter, fuel, and bedding. An ice-cold stream supplied water,
the Indian hunters provided fresh meat, bringing in now a mountain-goat
or a few brace of ptarmigan, and occasionally fetching up a deer from
one of the flowery meadows a few thousand feet below. The supplies of
other kinds of food, of warm clothing and bedding, were ample, and so,
in spite of its lofty and solitary situation, that mountain-camp seemed
to our lads one of the pleasantest and most comfortable places they had
ever known.
"It beats the sloop away out of sight," remarked Bonny.
"Or Skookum John's," said Alaric.
"Yes, or being chased and starved."
"The best of it all is that up here I seem to amount to something,"
added Alaric.
This was, after all, the true secret of our lads' content; for, in spite
of its novelty, the present situation would quickly have grown wearisome
had they not been constantly and happily occupied. Every day that the
weather would permit they tramped from early morning until dark over
snow-fields and glaciers, scaled cliffs, scrambled down into valley-like
meadows set like green jewels in the grim mountain-side, threaded their
way amid the fantastic forms of stunted forests, toiled slowly up lofty
heights, or slid with the speed of toboggans down gleaming slopes. Each
day they gained in agility and daring, and each night they returned to
that cheery camp with its light, warmth, and abounding comforts, so
healthfully tired and so ravenously hungry that it is no wonder they
grew to look upon it as a home, and a very pleasant one.
Both lads developed specialties in which they became expert. Alaric's
was photography, an art that he had acquired in France, and had
practised at intervals for more than a year. As soon as M. Filbert
discovered this knowledge on the part of his young interpreter, he
intrusted him with the camera, and never had the lad devoted himself to
anything with such enthusiasm as he now did to the capturing of views.
His greatest triumph came through hours of tedious and noiseless
creeping over a rough ice-field that finally placed him within twenty
yards of a couple of mountain-goats.
Although the wind was blowing strongly from them to him, the timid
creatures were already alarmed, and were sniffing the air suspiciously
when a click of the camera's shutter sent them off like a flash. But the
shot had been successful, as was shown by the development of a perfect
plate that evening. M. Filbert was jubilant over this feat, which he
said had never before been accomplished, and complimented the lad in
flattering terms upon the skilful patience that had led to it.
Bonny's specialty lay in the collecting of flowers, to which he had
devoted himself assiduously ever since learning that they were what the
little Frenchman most desired. Keen-eyed, nimble-footed, and tireless,
he discovered and secured many a rare specimen that but for him would
have been passed unnoticed.
Thus the leader of the expedition found reason to value the good
qualities of his young assistants more highly with each day, and was
already planning to have them accompany him on his entire American tour,
during which he proposed to ascend at least a dozen more mountains.
Bonny was jubilant over the prospect of such a trip, and was now as
eager to learn French, in order to qualify himself for it, as he had
formerly been scornful of the language.
With all this open-air life and splendid physical exercise, the one-time
pale-faced and slender Alaric was broadening and developing beyond
belief. His cheeks were now a ruddy brown, his eyes were clear, his
muscles hard, and his step as springy as that of a mountain-goat. Above
everything else in his own estimation he was learning to swing an axe
with precision, and could now chop a log in two almost as neatly as
Bonny himself.
For all that they were so constantly and agreeably occupied, the boys
were possessed of a great and ever-increasing longing to stand on the
lofty but still distant summit, with the general aspect of which they
had become so familiar during their stay in the timber-line camp. Thus,
when one evening M. Filbert decided to make a start towards it on the
morrow, they hailed the announcement with joy. One of the Indians was to
accompany them as guide, while his fellow was to be left with Francois
to keep camp.
The greater part of the following morning was devoted to making
preparations for the climb and what was thought might prove a three
days' absence from camp: the hobnails of their walking-boots, worn
smooth by friction, were replaced by a fresh set; alpenstocks were
tested until it was certain that each of those to be taken would bear
the weight of the heaviest of the party; provisions were cooked and
packs laid out. Each was to carry a canvas-covered blanket sleeping-bag,
inside of which would be rolled provisions for three days, a tin plate,
and a cup. Each was also provided with a sheath-knife and a supply of
matches. Besides these things M. Filbert was to carry a barometer, a
thermometer, a compass, and a collecting-case. Alaric was intrusted with
the camera and two dozen plates. Bonny's extras were a hatchet and a
fifty-foot coil of stout rope; while the Indian was to carry an ice-axe
and pack a burden of fire-wood.
It was nearly noon when, fortified by a hearty lunch, they left their
home-like camp, and, facing resolutely upward, began a tedious climb
over the limitless expanse of snow that they struck within the first
hundred yards. The sky was overcast, and they had hardly started ere a
dense cloud-bank swept down and enveloped them in its chill vapors. An
hour later they passed above it, though the clouds still rolled thick
below them, and emerged into sunlight. Glad as they were to see this, it
was so distressingly bright that they were obliged to protect their eyes
from its blinding glare with snow-goggles.
Wherever a ledge of rock projected above the snow they found blooming
flowers and busy insects. Even butterflies hovered about these spots of
verdure, and seemed as much at home amid their arctic surroundings as in
the warm valleys far below.
The climb of that afternoon was hot, in spite of the snow that crunched
beneath their feet, tedious, and only mildly exciting, for all the
perils of the ascent were to come on the morrow.
Shortly before the sun sank into the sea of cloud that spread in fleecy
undulations beneath them, they reached the base of the Cleaver, a
gigantic ridge that seemed to bar their further progress. Here, on a
small plat of nearly level ground from which they dug away the snow,
they made a fire over which to boil water for a pot of tea, ate supper,
and prepared to pass the night. They were four thousand feet above
timber-line, and two miles higher than the waters of Puget Sound.
As soon as supper was over the entire party crawled into their
sleeping-bags for protection against the bitter cold of the night, and
for a while the two boys, nestling together, talked in low tones. Then
Bonny fell asleep; but for nearly an hour Alaric lay awake, listening to
the awful silence of that lofty solitude, or startled by the occasional
thunderous rush of some plunging bowlder hurled from its bed by the
resistless leverage of frost.