ed East the next day. But his companion, the Mountain Climber,
although scarcely yet with a taste of civilization after months in the
wilderness, was in a receptive frame of mind. It took us two minutes to
decide definitely upon the excursion. Twenty minutes more and we had
picked outfits from the wealth of paraphernalia all about us, and at
midnight we saw the lights of Seattle's water front vanish astern as a
Sound steamer bore us toward Port Angeles on the Olympic peninsula.

At times on our journey the Mountain Climber reminded me that on his
inland voyaging Stevenson traveled with a donkey. Inasmuch as our pack
animal was a horse, that rather hurt my feelings; the inference was so
obvious. However, that horse was more than half mule, so far as
disposition is concerned. We hired him at Port Angeles and Billy was his
name.

"And when I walk, I always walk with Billy,
For Billy knows just how to walk,"

chanted the Mountain Climber as we started out blithely. But long ere we
crossed the divide separating the town from the valley of the Elwha
River we realized that if Billy knew how to walk he emphatically refused
to put his knowledge into practice. For Billy was a stubborn loafer
until it came to night time, when he bent his pent-up energy to getting
as far from camp as possible between dusk and sun-up.

[Illustration: "Canoeing is the most satisfactory method of travel
extant"]

[Illustration: The pack train above timber line

From a photo by Belmore Browne]

There are three distinct methods of travel on the trail. You may ride
horses and carry your supplies on a pack-horse. You may walk and let the
pack animal do the burden bearing. Or you may be a host unto yourself
and bear your entire household on your back, with your own legs
supplying locomotion. On this trip we chose the middle course, and
walked, while Billy was our common carrier. Back packing is a strenuous
undertaking where many miles are to be covered, and yet a superfluity of
horses is a nuisance if the going is rough and instead of gaining speed
with many animals you actually lose it. So it seemed to us the best way
was to go afoot, with a single pack-horse.

The brawling Elwha was our guide to Olympus, for its headwaters spring
almost from the base of the mountain, and our trail wandered up the bank
of the stream until, perhaps a dozen miles beyond our departure point
from the highroad, we came to an appetizing meadow, and the pleasantest