And it was hot down here below the range, hot and close. The yellow pines, and then endless acres of ugly lodge-pole pines, lined the road on both sides, shutting out wind and view. Only now and then did they catch a glimpse of Scott’s Peak, and later of Thielsen. They were in the dry country, too, for almost no rain ever falls on the east side of the Cascades. So they passed no brooks, after leaving Anna Creek. Choked with dust, the boys sampled the canteens frequently, and rejoiced that they weren’t in the second car, which was following far behind, to keep out of the dust as much as possible.
It was almost noon when they reached a stream at last, coming down from the snow-fields—and they were only half-way on their journey! Here they stopped for lunch. The doctor had insisted on saving out two cans of peaches for this occasion, and now they understood why. It was a job to worry the dry bread and the bacon down their parched throats, but how those cool peaches, and the juice they were canned in, did go to the spot!
The trip was resumed, and they went on and on northward, through endless forests of yellow pines, one of the few trees that will flourish in this dry region, till at last they came into the tiny little town of Crescent.
It was Bennie who spied a sign, “Soda” over the one store. He gave a yell, and hoisted his feet over the car door, ready to jump.
The soda turned out to be the bottled variety, and it hadn’t been kept on ice. In fact, there was no ice in the place. But even that didn’t prevent the five tourists from leaving behind ten empty bottles when they departed again.
The road through the endless yellow pine forest began to get better now. It had been straightened out and rock ballasted in places, and Uncle Billy stepped on the gas. He was traveling along at twenty-five miles or more, leaving a cloud of dust behind, when Bennie suddenly cried, “Say, I believe we just went through a town. Golly, I wonder if there was a soda there. Let’s go back.”
“This car doesn’t know how to turn around,” said Uncle Billy. “That was the town of La Pine. I know the man who used to own most of it.”
“What happened? Did he lose it out of his pocket?” said Bennie.
“I guess it crawled under a pine needle and hid from him,” said Spider.
It wasn’t long now before the car rolled out of the yellow pine forests into a great clearing, where every tree had been cut down as far as the eye could see, and a fire had followed, burning up all young stuff and making the ground dry, naked ashes.