57 



but we knew not what was reserved 

 for us and when we passed from 

 the warm Pullman sleeping car on to 

 the platform of Flagstaff we shivered 

 and repined. 



Although it was nearly June, Na- 

 ture in her vagaries had flung a snow 

 storm around San Francisco peak and 

 we in summer clothes with only hand 

 baggage thought regretfully of the 

 trunks and warm clothing that were 

 speeding onward to Pine Cone Lodge. 



Between eye-shutting and eye- 

 opening to be plunged from warmth, 

 light, flowers, all out-doors in joyous 

 mood, to the sleet and snow and the 

 wind that was almost a blizzard, and 

 cold against which our covering 

 seemed no protection, required a 

 plentiful application of traveller's 

 philosophy. The street in front of 

 us was running rivers of slush. 

 Nimrod was the first to recover. 

 He broke the silence that had hung 

 over us, leaden as the clouds above. 



"Well, let's get into this 'one-hoss 

 shay' and see if it can float us to 

 the hotel Driver, what's the best 

 hotel? The Palace?' We looked 

 at each other with grim humour. 



