of t$t (Rocte 



At last we were safely on a ridge and started 

 merrily off, hoping to cover speedily the three 

 miles of comparatively level plateau. 



How the wind did blow! Up more than eleven 

 thousand feet above the sea, with not a tree to 

 steady or break, it had a royal sweep. The wind 

 appeared to be putting forth its wildest efforts 

 to blow us off the ridge. There being a broad 

 way, I kept well from the edges. The wind 

 came with a dash and heavy rush, first from one 

 quarter, then from another. I was watchful and 

 faced each rush firmly braced. Generally, this 

 preparedness saved me; but several times the 

 wind apparently expanded or exploded beneath 

 me, and, with an upward toss, I was flung among 

 the icy rocks and crusted snows. Finally I took 

 to dropping and lying flat whenever a violent 

 gust came ripping among the crags. 



There was an arctic barrenness to this alpine 

 ridge, not a house within miles, no trail, and 

 here no tree could live to soften the sternness of 

 the landscape or to cheer the traveler. The way 

 was amid snowy piles, icy spaces, and wind- 

 swept crags. 



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