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.