Continuing westward for about six miles we came to a second coulee, where the road was very rough and pitted into holes, but so deep in dust that the holes were felt rather than seen. The western wall of the coulee, terraced and fluted, appeared to be of basaltic formation but on closer inspection was found to be composed of volcanic rock similar to that seen at Dry Falls. These barren rocks, the brown, bolder-strewn hillside dotted with grey, stunted sage-brush and grease-wood, and the coulee bottom streaked with alkali, all gave such a picture of arid desolation that we naturally thought of rattlesnakes and thirst, especially as the day was by this time very hot. Maudie must have had the same feeling, as it was necessary to stop a short distance on and allow her to drink, but she did not even shy at a dead rattlesnake - at which the Kid threw stones - which we passed on the trail. It is a long barren stretch of 44 miles from Coulee City to Waterville, unbroken by any other interesting feature, but the Cascades had been drawing nearer and about two miles beyond Waterville the road led down to the Columbia River in a winding descent of four miles. Maudie since reaching American territory had developed a spirit of rebellion against decent and accustomed restraint, selfishly claiming in the name of democracy to be a law unto herself without regard to the rights or interests of others, which lack of principle she fondly imagined represented true freedom. She would in all probability have hurled herself to headlong destruction long before reaching the bottom of the hill, had it not been for the gentle, retroactive pressure and a tactful curtailment of the power, the transport and motive element, applied by B. her director.

We camped for lunch on the bank of the Columbia River some distance below Orondo - a view of the river taken from this camp will appear on page 19 - Shade was very scarce and the sand of the river bank so hot that it burnt the feet through the soles of your boots. A fresh pound of butter, which we wished to put into a sealer carried for that purpose, was found to be of the consistency of oil and had to be decanted before it could be cooled off in the river. This spot was too near the road and too public - the river current also being an unknown quantity - to allow us to bathe, so we contented ourselves with a wash and, much refreshed followed on down the valley to Wenatchee, 177 miles from Spokane, where we crossed the river by the bridge leading into the town, from which bridge a second view of the river was obtained. Leaving the town, the road runs past some fine, irrigated orchards and fruit farms, and climbing steadily in a series of switchbacks goes through Cashmere, about 15 miles from Wenatchee, this being the last place of any size before crossing what is known as Blewett's Pass through the Cascades.

Since reaching Wenatchee we had noticed an occasional car bearing the legend "Blewett's Pass is open", but a few miles from Cashmere we were halted by a party which had just descended the pass and by them cautioned not to try it, as the road was very bad in places and though capable of descent was a very difficult proposition to ascend. By these people we were advised to return through Wenatchee and take a long detour through Ellensburg, but as this would have meant a considerable delay we decided to go on until we were compelled to turn back. The road had by this time commenced a steady though gradual climb with the hills ahead apparently presenting an impassable barrier. At a turn in the road we came upon another party evidently making camp for the night and as they had also, as we supposed, just come down the pass we stopped to make inquiries. This man proved to be a regular kill-joy - his nerve seemed badly shaken by the mischances he had just met with - telling us that it was absolutely impossible to make the hills without more power than we possessed. He gave a harrowing description of his trip down, including one upset, but on being strictly questioned acknowledged that other cars had made the trip successfully, so, hoping for the best, but prepared for disappointment, we continued on our way. The scenery was again magnificent, though the information we had just received probably interfered with our full appreciation of it as, driving carefully, we were continually on the watch for the difficulties of which we had been warned. We reached Blewett in safety and without trouble, but shortly after a Ford coupe as we topped a rise was seen below us at the side of the trail at the foot of a fairly steep hill, so B. scouted ahead to ascertain the trouble. This proved to be a load of grips carried by the owner of the car, which load was said to weigh almost 1,000 lbs., a load far too heavy for the power of the car on that kind of trail and grade. The driver was a commercial traveller, immaculately clean, wearing a plug hat and evidently accustomed to ease. As any person who would use a coupe in weather and scenery such as we were enjoying could not be considered a subject for sympathy, finding there was room to pass, B. went on to the top of the hill to inspect the trail, which was very loose and rough in addition to being quite steep. It was only short however and Maudie getting away to a good start had no difficulty in reaching the top, where we were again compelled to stop as another Henry, half car, half truck was stuck near the bottom of the other side. All hands then turned out to assist, the drummer being also requisitioned, and succeeded in getting Henry to the middle of the hill where he again stuck. Fortunately reinforcements came up at this juncture, then half pushed half carried, Henry struggled up, and with a little assistance the reinforcements also arrived at the top. The space at the summit of the hill was now quite crowded, so, to make room for the commercial and his grips, we thought it our duty to proceed, after learning that there was really nothing insurmountable ahead of us and that we were not far from the nearly completed road. One other detour was necessary down a sharp grade, through a ford, up again the other side and so onto the finished portion of the grade, which from here climbs in a continuous corkscrew to the top of the pass, every turn and twist providing a new view of extraordinary beauty. The sun was down before we reached the top and the view dimmed by the approaching night, but the light and coloring, just before sunset, when the tops of the hills still caught the sunlight and the valleys were shrouded in violet haze, requires a completely new set of adjectives to attempt to describe it, but leaves a memory that will be long in fading.

The top of the pass, 4071 feet above sea level, was crossed with only a short stop at the road builders' camp, and with a downgrade helping us an additional five miles was added, making the day's run 237 miles. The total mileage including side trips 1220 miles, an average of about 170 miles per day since leaving Regina one week ago. We called it a day at 9 p.m., camping on a knoll at a turn in the road. We were in the Wenatchee Forest Reserve and for the sake of safety we built the fire by the roadside, the beds were made further back on a thick carpet of pine needles and, very tired - it can do no harm to record as our apology for this admission that this had been a 20 hour day, unusually hot, that meals had been taken at intervals of approximately nine hours and that there had been some pretty tough work thrown in - but with the pleasant feeling that we were now almost in sight of our objective and had on this day at least fulfilled our schedule we looked upon 'Big Brother' and straightway demolished the oxen and fatlings to the last bean.