31 



CHAPTER IX. 



ZASKOOEA. 



With afternoon sunlight on the pines be- 

 neath ; with the long day's climb behind you. 

 and your hardly earned game at your feet, 

 nothing looks more lovely than the snow 

 peaks, their belts of pine forest, and the 

 thickly wooded foothills from which the white 

 column of your camp-fire's smoke ascends. 

 But when a man, with limbs of iron and 

 leathern lungs, wakes you about midnight ; 

 when the fire has gone out, and the chill of 

 morning has got hold of your half-rested 

 body, the ragged white peaks look cruel and 

 far off against the sky-line ; and cursing your 



