STEEP TRAILS 



ing the descent, I was compelled to follow. 

 &quot;Here,&quot; said Jerome, as we shivered in the 

 midst of the hissing, sputtering fumaroles, 

 &quot;we shall be safe from frost.&quot; &quot;Yes,&quot; said I, 

 &quot;we can lie in this mud and steam and sludge, 

 warm at least on one side; but how can we 

 protect our lungs from the acid gases, and how, 

 after our clothing is saturated, shall we be able 

 to reach camp without freezing, even after the 

 storm is over? We shall have to wait for sun 

 shine, and when will it come?&quot; 



The tempered area to which we had com 

 mitted ourselves extended over about one 

 fourth of an acre; but it was only about an 

 eighth of an inch in thickness, for the scalding 

 gas-jets were shorn off close to the ground by 

 the oversweeping flood of frosty wind. And 

 how lavishly the snow fell only mountaineers 

 may know. The crisp crystal flowers seemed 

 to touch one another and fairly to thicken the 

 tremendous blast that carried them. This was 

 the bloom-time, the summer of the cloud, and 

 never before have I seen even a mountain 

 cloud flowering so profusely. 



When the bloom of the Shasta chaparral is 

 falling, the ground is sometimes covered for 

 hundreds of square miles to a depth of half an 

 inch. But the bloom of this fertile snow-cloud 

 grew and matured and fell to a depth of two 



74 



