f Big Trees.

CHAPTER VI

When we reached Raymond we had left the valleys behind us and were in
the rough country preceding the long climb up through the high Sierras
to Wawona. It was late afternoon, and as we drove along we enjoyed the
wooded hills and the far views over deep gulleys to the mountains
beyond, in the afternoon sunshine. We met but few people on the steep,
rocky mountain road. At one point we passed a roadside group of campers
for the night. They had unharnessed their weary horses, had built a
fire, and were preparing their supper. The water-trough used by
travelers was close by, and they had pure spring water for their needs.
There were two families, with a host of children, going up into the pine
woods to one of the sawmills where the men were to work. The young
mother of one family had with her a little three-weeks-old baby, fat and
rosy-looking as his proud father held him before the fire. The poor
mother was very weary and disheartened. "I am not used to this," she
said, as she folded up some bits of clothing that she had been washing
for the children. The wagons looked as if furniture and clothing had
been piled in "higgledy pigglety." The children and their parents slept
as best they could on top of this lumpy mass. One little girl of twelve
or so had a tear-stained face and a look of real suffering in her blue
eyes. She had hurt her ankle in running up and down the mountain roads
with the other children. I felt sorry for the poor child, as it was
evident that her sprained ankle would have little care in this itinerant
household. We were glad that the tired company had the mild evening air
in which to lie down and rest.

As we went on, the scenery grew wilder and the road grew rougher.
Something ailed our machine, too. It transpired that we had a bad spark
plug and there was nothing for it but to return to Raymond and have
things put right in the little garage there. We did so and then we made
the foolish mistake of deciding to go on, although the shadows were
deepening, toward Wawona. So once more we climbed the narrow, rutted
mountain road. It was astonishing how fast the twilight fell. We had
thought that we still had a good hour before darkness came on, but it
grew dark alarmingly fast, and we were soon driving along in forest
blackness over the uneven road. We kept the horn going for fear of
meeting something around the sharp corners which were so numerous, but
the road was utterly