of 



the call of the summit. There are times when 

 Nature completely commands her citizens. A 

 splendid landscape, sunset clouds, or a rainbow 

 on a near-by mountain's slope, by these one 

 may be as completely charmed and made as 

 completely captive as were those who heard the 

 music of Orpheus' lyre. My youthful dream 

 had been to scale peak after peak, and from the 

 earthly spires to see the scenic world far below 

 and far away. All this had come true, though 

 of many trips into the sky and cloudland, none 

 had been up to the bold heights of Blanca. 

 Thinking that the poisoned water might take 

 me from the list of those who seek good tidings 

 in the heights, I suddenly determined to reach 

 those wintry wonder-heights while yet I had 

 the strength. I rose from relaxation, laid down 

 my snowshoes, and started for the summit. 



Blanca is a mountain with an enormous 

 amount of material in it, enough for a score 

 of sizable peaks. Its battered head is nearly 

 two thousand feet above its rugged shoulder. 

 The sun sank slowly as I moved along a rocky 

 skyline ridge and at last gained the summit. 



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