of 10* 



about to plunge blindly into the gorge, I thought 

 of the possibility of becoming entangled in the 

 hedge-like thickets of dwarfed, gnarled timber- 

 line trees. I also realized that I might dash 

 against a cliff or plunge into a deep canon. Of 

 course I might strike an open way, but certain 

 it was that I could not stop, nor see the begin- 

 ning of the gorge, nor tell what I should strike 

 when I shot over the ridge. 



It was a second of most intense concern as I 

 cleared the ridge blindly to go into what lay 

 below and beyond. It was like leaping into the 

 dark, and with the leap turning on the all- 

 revealing light. As I cleared the ridge, there was 

 just time to pull myself together for a forty- 

 odd-foot leap across one arm of the horseshoe- 

 shaped end of the gorge. In all my wild moun- 

 tainside coasts on skees, never have I sped as 

 swiftly as when I made this mad flight. As I 

 shot through the air, I had a glimpse down into 

 the pointed, snow-laden tops of a few tall fir 

 trees that were firmly rooted among the rocks 

 in the bottom of the gorge. Luckily I cleared 

 the gorge and landed in a good place; but so 



10 



