observatory. Just as we were beginning to wonder even whether the observatory was still there, the clouds parted for a moment and revealed it all intact on the crest. Miniature it looked, but it was all there; monument, instrument shelter, and observatory building, each a tiny projection on the sky line. The true perspective was revealed for once in this land of exaggerated nearnesses by the walls and planes of cloud between us and our destination. The Californian's heart was now becoming adjusted, but his muscles showed signs of extreme fatigue. As one leg rested on dead center for a moment its muscles suddenly contracted in cramp and held him stiff-legged until they could be persuaded to release their grip. Then, when this leg had obtained its second wind, so to speak, the other leg approached its crisis. The Californian met this quietly and successfully. He suddenly placed himself at ease on the snow with his stiffened leg far outstretched and handed the enthusiast his staff. "Drive this into the snow," said he, "just behind my knee. Now take my leg by the ankle and pull slowly backward." perforce, and when the knee had thus center the muscles yielded obedience. The Californian was master of his mechanism once more. The leg yielded been thrown off Darkness overtook us just as we shaped our final course for the buttresses which stand guard on either side of the summit of the mountain. There was a moon, but its presence could not be detected save by a faint glow in the atmosphere which dispelled midnight darkness. The clouds had now attained the consistency of fog, and a fierce gale was blowing aloft. This gale we avoided by clinging close to the leeward side of the nearer buttress, whose presence we felt rather than saw. When we surmounted this barrier we were met by a fusillade of driving snow and frost crystals so fierce that we were unable to maintain our footing. Breathing in the face of such a blast became uncomfortable, and the ears and hands, that had not been covered with face masks and mittens earlier in the evening, began to suffer. We were now not more than ten minutes distant from the observatory. The guide laid a straight course up the slope toward it, but did not find it. In fact, he discovered that he was descending rapidly from pinnacle to pinnacle, and a long, rising slope could not be found. He was playing at blind-man's buff and was being beaten at the game. The only distinguishable features were precipitous rocks on the one side of the crest and a gentler slope on the other. But these were reversed in direction. The botanist was called into consultation, while the Californian asked us if we knew at all where we were. We figured that we must be going east along the mountain crest when we should have gone west. But my brain had not turned with my feet. I was, to my best conviction, still going west, though my judgment said east. So, figuratively speaking, I took my head and turned it forcibly around. "Now, sir, this is south and that is north. Yonder, before you is west." Up again, pinnacle over pinnacle, we went, over mounds of snow, keeping close to the broken crest line of the mountain until, at the top of one last cloud-like peak a small black cube appeared. It was our destination, and cheerier place never furnished more welcome retreat. When the lamp was lit our personal appearance roused roars of merriment. In our struggle with the gale we had become covered with hoar frost until hair, eyebrows, cap-in fact, every available object on our persons-were festooned with white. The frost in fingers and ears left only a lingering soreness. We had risen to the highest part of our journey,-10,800 feet above the sea,—and now we could rest until quite ready to speed down over the slopes to Lake Tahoe, the second objective of our trip. Next morning the fog still lay heavy around us and extended for at least a thousand feet down the mountain. The barometer was rising and the temperature was falling. A forecast of fairer weather for the next day was made and a unanimous agreement was reached to spend this day in rest and sport and to await the morrow. But lest the weather should remain unfavorable, our course along the mountain tops was laid out on the map, and angles and distances were accurately determined in order that we might continue our trip until we could descend below the zone of storm. Waterproof leggins were also provided by the deft fingers of the Californian, and snowshoes were put in order for the six inches of snow that had recently fallen upon the crust. Next morning dawned clear, with only a fog bank here and there, anchored in the depths of some valley. Mountain chains, valleys, lakes and rivers appeared with perfection in detail of miniatures. The towns lay in the depths below. Northward the valleys were chocolate brown with rims of white. Southward every eminence and depression was dazzling white throughout. The landscape was burdened with snow until it seemed that it could hold no more. Equipment was cut to the minimum, except that the Californian and the botanist retained the maximum in cigars. These had been their solace the previous day and should be jettisoned last of all. The enthusiast carried his baggage on his back. The others placed theirs on the mountain sled and played team with staff for whiffletree. Down slopes amid alpine pines, still bearing their white festoons and crystal blossoms, the party sped to the cañon floor of Galena Creek, where mountain pine and alpine hemlock grow undisturbed and hold the masses of winter snow in check. Then up the cañon-side over a staircase, slowly kicked, step by step, in the treacherous crust, the party ascended to the plateau that rose gradually to the continuous range along which lay the course to the lake. Here began a series of disappointments for the botanist. He thought the route should be one grand, even descent, down which he could ride or at least roll all the way to the lake. While, perforce, alternating peaks and mountain saddles made a devious trail up and down, to and fro, which must be trodden to obtain the only practicable high route to State Line Point. The night was spent high up on the flank of Rose Peak, the dominating mountain south of Mt. Rose. The situation, scenically, could not have been better, for sunset and sunrise could both be seen from our camp. Shelter, however, could scarcely have been worse, for this consisted only of two poor rows of mountain scrub, rising somewhat higher than our heads above the snow, and a slight trough in the snow excavated with the aid of our snowshoes. A few other clumps furnished boughs for bed and windbreak. An old stub afforded a few armfuls of wood. The Californian made the bed and furnished the modus dormiendi. Three should sleep in one bed and to keep within the limits set by the covers they should sleep like nested S's, with arms outstretched to clutch the neighbor in front. But here the botanist wavered. He did not relish close contact with the inevitably snoring Californian-that is, providing the Californian sleptand so decided to remain on guard until quite drowsy. At length he came, but the covers would not stretch and the snow was cold. So, after a futile struggle for comfort, he decided to return to the fire until midnight, and then to claim the enthusiast's place. Tedious that watch must have been. The fire had been steadily sinking into the snow, leaving a pit, up which it sent its acrid smoke and little warmth to the shivering watchman on its brink. The patience of the Scotch botanist lasted until I A. M., when his sorrows and indignation took voluble expression. The enthusiast was prompted to rise immediately, and found the botanist clinging to the walls of the pit in a vain endeavor to reach the fire and avoid the wind sweeping over the surface of the snow. The botanist retired and the enthusiast perched himself in the pit. Desperately inconvenient became his situation, even in the first quarter hour, nor did a limb jabbed into the side of the pit to keep him from falling into the fire furnish much relief. His physical wants, however, soon stirred his mind to activity. A pile of poles from the tree tops, too green for burning, lay close at hand, and of these he |