only beginning to melt late in July, and by September, although almost
gone from the pass itself, it still covered deep the trail on the east
side.

So, some of those who read this may try the same great adventure
hereafter and find it unnecessary to make the Doubtful Lake detour. I
hope so. Because the pass is too wonderful not to be visited. Some day,
when this magnificent region becomes a National Park, and there is
something more than a dollar a mile to be spent on trails, a thousand
dollars or so invested in trail-work will put this roof of the world
within reach of any one who can sit a horse. And those who go there will
be the better for the going. Petty things slip away in the silent high
places. It is easy to believe in God there. And the stars and heaven
seem very close.

One thing died there forever for me--my confidence in the man who writes
the geography and who says that, representing the earth by an orange,
the highest mountains are merely as the corrugations on its skin.

On Cascade Pass is the dividing-line between the Chelan and the
Washington National Forests. For some reason we had confidently believed
that reaching the pass would see the end of our difficulties. The only
question that had ever arisen was whether we could get to the pass or
not. And now we were there.

We were all perceptibly cheered; even the horses seemed to feel that the
worst was over. Tame grouse scudded almost under our feet. They had
never seen human beings, and therefore had no terror of them.

And here occurred one of the small disappointments that the Middle Boy
will probably remember long after he has forgotten the altitude in feet
of that pass and other unimportant matters. For he scared up some
grouse, and this is the tragedy. The open season for grouse is September
1st in Chelan and September 15th across the line. And the birds would
not cross the line. They were wise birds, and must have had a calendar
about them, for, although we were vague as to the date, we knew it was
not yet the 15th. So they sat or fluttered about, and looked most
awfully good to eat. But they never went near the danger-zone or the
enemy's trenches.

We lay about and rested, and the grouse laughed at us, and a great
marmot, sentinel of his colony, sat on a near-by rock and whistled
reports of what we were doing. Joe unlimbered the moving-picture camera,
and the Head used the remainder of his small stock of iodine on the
injured horses. The