TIMBER-LINE AND SUMMIT 133 



that the narrow sky-line was the edge of a precipice, 

 that there was no such thing as hunting beyond, and it 

 looked as if no one could walk on the knife-edge for 

 more than a hundred yards or so. 



Feeling that I had been grossly deceived by that 

 notch, I decided to expend no further energy upon it, 

 unless something more than the summit were to be 

 gained by it. Twenty-five years ago I would have fol- 

 lowed Charlie to the last gasp; but as it was, I shame- 

 lessly allowed him to climb on up to the top, alone. The 

 mental and physical exertion of placing my feet about 

 six hundred times in that loose stuff, -each time so care- 

 fully that my foot would hold without the possibility of 

 a slide or a roll, had so completely exhausted both my 

 nerves and my ankles that I had neither patience nor 

 strength for another useless fifty feet. I learned that a 

 man who is reasonably fresh can do climbing that is 

 almost impossible to him when his feet and his nerves 

 are equally exhausted. It is very trying to climb for an 

 hour with a feeling that one false step, one turned ankle 

 or one treacherous rock will lead swiftly to a battered 

 body and broken bones. 



Charlie climbed on up with the sang-froid of a moun- 

 tain goat, and soon stood on the sky-line, looking over. 



" How wide is it up there? " 



" Well, in some places it's three feet; but in one place 

 it's nearly twenty." 



" Anything to do on the other side? " 



"No; I guess not. No good ground, no game in 

 sight. There's no use in your coming up here." 



