A NIGHT ON SHASTA'S SUMMIT 



slope and the straggling storm-bent pines 

 around us. Melted snow answered for coffee, 

 and we had plenty of venison to roast. Toward 

 midnight I rolled myself in my blankets, slept 

 an hour and a half, arose and ate more venison, 

 tied two days' provisions to my belt, and set 

 out for the summit, hoping to reach it ere the 

 coming storm should fall. Jerome accompanied 

 me a little distance above camp and indicated 

 the way as well as he could in the darkness. 

 He seemed loath to leave me, but, being reas- 

 sured that I was at home and required no care, 

 he bade me good-bye and returned to camp, 

 ready to lead his animals down the mountain 

 at daybreak. 



After I was above the dwarf pines, it was 

 fine practice pushing up the broad unbroken 

 slopes of snow, alone in the solemn silence of 

 the night. Half the sky was clouded; in the 

 other half the stars sparkled icily in the keen, 

 frosty air; while everywhere the glorious wealth 

 of snow fell away from the summit of the cone 

 in flowing folds, more extensive and continuous 

 than any I had ever seen before. When day 

 dawned the clouds were crawling slowly and 

 becoming more massive, but gave no intima- 

 tion of immediate danger, and I pushed on 

 faithfully, though holding myself well in hand, 

 ready to return to the timber; for it was easy 



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