The Skagit is not one of the great rivers of the world, for very little of its course lies outside the boundaries of a single state. It is, however, none the less interesting. Few rivers with a length of only one hundred and fifty miles present so great a variety of instructive features. We shall certainly learn more from a study of the Skagit than from many a better known and more pretentious river.

Innumerable torrents, fed by the glaciers of the Cascade Range, pour down the rocky slopes and lose themselves in the wooded caÑons below. The caÑon streams, of much greater size, flow less impetuously over gentler slopes, and are frequently blocked by boulders and logs. These streams unite in one broad, deep river, which moves on quietly to its resting-place in Puget Sound. Its name, Skagit, is of Indian origin and means wild cat.

By following the Skagit River and a tributary stream, one can go from the bare and snowy summit of the Cascade Range down through dense forests, and come out at last upon a magnificent delta, where a fertile plain is slowly but steadily encroaching upon the waters of the sound. What contrasting scenes are presented along the few short miles of the course of the river! A trip from its source to its mouth will be worth all the trouble it involves, although the trail is often disagreeably wet and sometimes dangerous.

There is no grander scenery in the United States than that of the Cascade Range; nor are there more dense forests than those found upon its western slope. The range is hidden in almost perpetual clouds and storms, and they are fortunate who can reach its summit upon a pleasant day.

The forests of fir and hemlock have gained a foothold nearly to the summit of the range. Upon the little benches and in the protected nooks the trees grow thriftily, and dense groves are found up to an elevation of nearly five thousand feet; but upon the more exposed and rocky slopes stunted trunks show the effect of a constant struggle with the rocks and winds. Upon other slopes, too high for the trees to grow, there are low shrubs and arctic mosses; but above all rise precipitous crags and peaks, utterly bare except for the glaciers nestling among them.

Under the shade of the upland forests the moss is damp and the wood wet, so that it is difficult to make a comfortable camp or to build a fire. But these discomforts are not worthy of consideration in view of the inspiration which one gains by the outlook from some commanding point upon the summit of the mountain range.

All about are jagged, splintered peaks. Upon every gentle slope there rests, within some alcove, a glistening mass of snow and ice. A score of these glaciers are in sight. They are supplied in winter by the drifting snows, and yield in summer, from their lower extremities, streams of ice-cold water. A multitude of streams raise a gentle murmur, broken occasionally by a dull roar as some glacier, in its slow descent, breaks upon the edge of a precipice and its fragments fall into the caÑon below.

From a position upon the summit above the point where the Skagit trail crosses the mountains may be seen a little lake, on the surface of which remains some of last winter's ice not yet melted by the August sun. If the climate were a little colder, the basin would be occupied by a glacier instead of a lake. All about the lake there are steep, rocky slopes, more or less completely covered with low arctic plants and stunted, storm-beaten hemlocks. From among the trees at the foot of the lake rises the roof of a miner's log cabin, and a few hundred feet beyond a small, dark opening in the face of a cliff shows where the miner is running a tunnel in his search for gold.

Far below, and heading close under the sharp crest of the range, are densely wooded caÑons. The fair weather is passing, and it is necessary to find the trail and descend. Clouds are sweeping across the ridges and peaks, and soon the whole summit will be covered by them.

From a point a little east of the summit the clouds present a grand sight at the gathering of a storm. Higher and higher they pile upon the ocean face of the mountains. At the bottom they are dark and threatening, but the thunder-heads above can be seen bathed in the bright sunlight. For a time the clouds hang upon the summit as if stopped by some invisible barrier; perhaps they are loath to pass into the drier air of the eastern slope. But finally they move on, and rain or snow soon envelops the whole landscape.

The trail descends rapidly for four thousand feet to Cascade River, a tributary of the Skagit. It is a steep and slippery way, and in many places it is not safe to ride the horses. The sub-arctic climate of the summit is left behind, and one is soon surrounded by dense and luxuriant vegetation. Such a change as this, in a short distance, shows how greatly elevation affects climate and plant growth.

Upon every hand there is the sound of rushing water. From the cliffs ribbon-like cascades are falling. The rivulets unite in one stream, which roars and tumbles down the caÑon over logs and boulders. The trail crosses and recrosses the torrent until the water becomes too deep for fording, and then it leads one to a rude bridge made of two logs with split planks laid across them.

As the caÑon widens, the trail leads farther from the river and through dense forests. The woods are so silent that they become oppressive, and the air is damp, for the sunlight is almost excluded. The tall trees, fir, hemlock, and spruce, with now and then a cedar, stand close together. Shrubs of many kinds are crowded among them, while mosses and ferns cover the ground. The fallen trunks are wrapped in moss, and young trees are growing upon them, drawing their nourishment from the decaying tissues. In the more open spots grow the salal bushes with their purple berries, the yellow salmon berries, and the blue-black huckleberries.

It is difficult to get an idea of the density of a Washington forest, or of the character of the streams, unless one has actually taken a trip through the region. If one wishes to escape the forest by following the streams, he will find the path blocked by fallen trees. It is necessary continually to climb over or under obstructions, and the traveller is fortunate if he does not fall into the cold water. Upon the banks it is even worse; one must struggle through dense prickly bushes and ferns, and be tripped every few rods. Though the forest may appear at first to offer an easier way, it will soon be found that creeping and crawling through the undergrowth of bushes and young trees is exceedingly tiresome, and one will gladly return to the muddy trail, thankful for its guidance.

The mountains become less precipitous and the caÑon widens to a valley, until at last the trail comes out at a clearing where the Cascade River joins the Skagit. At this point, known as Marble Mountain, there is a ferry, also a store and several other buildings. The cleared fields seem a relief after many miles of dense forest, but such openings are infrequent, for few settlers have yet pushed far into the forests of the Skagit valley. To make a clearing of any size, tear out the stumps, and prepare the land for cultivation, requires many years of hard labor.

How silently and yet with what momentum the river sweeps on! The water is clear in summer, but in winter it must be very muddy, for the Skagit is building one of the largest deltas upon Puget Sound.

At Marble Mountain the traveller may, if he wishes, leave his horses, hire an Indian canoe, and float down the river to the nearest railroad station. The ride in the cedar canoe, with an Indian at the stern carefully guiding it past snags and boulders, is one of the pleasantest portions of the trip. The winding river is followed for nearly fifty miles. There is mile after mile of silent forest, the solitude broken only here and there by camps of Indians who are spending the summer by the river, fishing and picking huckleberries. Now and then a call comes from one of these camps, and in spite of the danger of being swamped by the swift current, the canoe is turned toward the shore, but the stop is only for a moment.

At last a new railroad grade comes in sight, with gangs of men at work. The valley of the Skagit contains one of the finest bodies of timber in Washington, and the railroad is being built for the purpose of reaching this timber. There is little other inducement for the building of a railroad; for beside a few summer visitors, the only inhabitants are the scattered prospectors and miners.

We enter the train at a little town in the woods and are soon speeding down the valley toward the mouth of the river. Clearings appear in the forest, and at last the view opens out over extensive meadows which stretch away, almost as level as a floor, to the waters of the sound. Here and there the meadows are broken by forest trees or irregular groups of farm buildings. Rich lands form the delta of the Skagit River. The value of these natural meadows was quickly recognized by the early settlers, for not only was the land exceedingly fertile, but it did not have to be cleared in order to be transformed into productive grain-fields.

For centuries, ever since the melting of the great glaciers which once descended the Cascade Range and crept down the sound, the river has been building this delta. It grew rapidly, for immense accumulations of gravels and clays were left by the retreating glaciers. The delta has already spread westward into the sound, until it has enveloped some of the smaller islands. The forests growing upon these islands, which rise from the surface of the delta plain, are in picturesque contrast to the fields dotted with stacks of grain.

The delta is now practically joined to the eastern side of the San Juan Islands. The railroad reaches the islands by means of a trestle across the intervening tidal flats, delivering its load of logs at the mills and leaving the passengers at the town of Anacortes, where they may take one of the many steamers passing up and down the sound.

Of all the deltas now forming about Puget Sound that of the Skagit is the largest and most interesting. One might think that the forests would so protect the slopes that erosion would not be rapid, but the valleys of all the tributary streams appear deeply filled with rock fragments, which have, for the most part, accumulated from the higher portions of the range, where frost and ice are slowly tearing down the cliffs. At each period of flood some of this material is passed on to the river, which in turn drops it upon the borders of its delta.

The Skagit River, from its source to its mouth, takes the traveller through varying climates and life zones, from the barren crest where the miner is the only inhabitant, down through forests where the lumberman is busy, until it leaves him upon the rich meadows of its delta.