nd peaks, utterly bare except for the glaciers
nestling among them.

Under the shade of the upland forests the moss is damp and the
wood wet, so that it is difficult to make a comfortable camp or to
build a fire. But these discomforts are not worthy of consideration
in view of the inspiration which one gains by the outlook from some
commanding point upon the summit of the mountain range.

All about are jagged, splintered peaks. Upon every gentle slope
there rests, within some alcove, a glistening mass of snow and
ice. A score of these glaciers are in sight. They are supplied
in winter by the drifting snows, and yield in summer, from their
lower extremities, streams of ice-cold water. A multitude of streams
raise a gentle murmur, broken occasionally by a dull roar as some
glacier, in its slow descent, breaks upon the edge of a precipice
and its fragments fall into the canon below.

From a position upon the summit above the point where the Skagit
trail crosses the mountains may be seen a little lake, on the surface
of which remains some of last winter's ice not yet melted by the
August sun. If the climate were a little colder, the basin would
be occupied by a glacier instead of a lake. All about the lake
there are steep, rocky slopes, more or less completely covered
with low arctic plants and stunted, storm-beaten hemlocks. From
among the trees at the foot of the lake rises the roof of a miner's
log cabin, and a few hundred feet beyond a small, dark opening in
the face of a cliff shows where the miner is running a tunnel in
his search for gold.

Far below, and heading close under the sharp crest of the range,
are densely wooded canons. The fair weather is passing, and it
is necessary to find the trail and descend. Clouds are sweeping
across the ridges and peaks, and soon the whole summit will be
covered by them.

From a point a little east of the summit the clouds present a grand
sight at the gathering of a storm. Higher and higher they pile
upon the ocean face of the mountains. At the bottom they are dark
and threatening, but the thunder-heads above can be seen bathed in
the bright sunlight. For a time the clouds hang upon the summit
as if stopped by some invisible barrier; perhaps they are loath
to pass into the drier air of the eastern slope. But finally they
move on, and rain or snow soon envelops the whole landscape.

The trail descends rapidly for four thousand feet to Cascade River,
a tributary of the Skag