and, like Kipling's "Sons of Mary" found the rough places smooth for our feet, owe a debt of gratitude to the hard-working officers of the Club who planned, and the unselfish volunteers who swung axes and stretched ropes for our comfort. The names of these, "The Sons of Martha," I could give—and would, were it not to save a blush in the cheek of the many lingerers. Even so I would venture to make an exception of the man from Woodstock if he had not been already overpaid for those four days; it was then that he thought out the great device for the painless ironing of rough-dried collars on a tent roof. One of the McTavish twins, too, would certainly have been mentioned—if I were quite certain which twin it was that worked. The wrong one would assuredly claim the credit, and he, as it happened, appeared in camp when the work was all done, and just as supper was served. I ought to know, for I came with him.
Life in camp was, to some extent, guided by the official bulletin. Every evening we could read the programme for the following day, consisting of two official climbs (one starting about 5.30 for Mt. Temple, another at 6.30 for Mt. Aberdeen), two forty-eight hour excursions starting at 10 a.m. (one for Lake O'Hara and one for Moraine Lake), besides several less arduous trips about the valley itself. In spite of these notices, no member was compelled to do anything, arduous or otherwise, during the day. Three meals were served for him at very elastic hours, and, beyond attendance at these, or not even including such attendance, he could spend his time as he pleased. I can at all events speak for there always being plenty of campers standing or lounging about to serve as artistic studies. There were always, too, plenty of people to welcome incoming campers or baggage when the saddle ponies or pack- horses reached us from Laggan. Such pastimes as porcupine hunting, wood chopping, patching "glissaded"
