THE EAINY SEASON 95 



above the backbone of the range and spread swiftly 

 till it covered the whole corner of the sky. As it 

 neared a cold wind roared dismally through the 

 trees and a moment later rain fell in sheets, blotting 

 put the surrounding landscape completely. 



We stood meanwhile under the half shelter of a 

 tree or rock, wet to the skin and numb with cold, 

 and waited till the worst of the storm passed, list- 

 ening to the hiss of the rain and watching the almost 

 continuous stabs of lightning, or starting involun- 

 tarily at the jarring, crashing detonation of the fol- 

 lowing thunder. 



Then, when the air cleared a trifle, we sallied forth 

 once more and took up our run where we left off. 

 Sometimes the rain continued; sometimes we were 

 enveloped in chilly banks of cloud, not nearly so at- 

 tractive close at hand as they appeared from a dis- 

 tance. 



Once, on a day like this, I ran my line for a mile 

 over a row of peaks where the cloud mists were so 

 thick I could see not further than fifty feet in any 

 direction. My maps, as might be surmised, were 

 not all that could be desired. 



Often, instead of passing overhead, a storm would 

 miss us and roll by to one side or the other. At such 

 times, particularly if we chanced to be in a place of 

 vantage, on a pinnacle or high point, the spectacle 

 defied description. The whole world, as we saw it 

 mountain and valley, sky and far plain, framed a 



