40 THE LOG OF A TIMBER CRUISER 
tains indefinitely. I spoke of this to Frazer, who 
said: 
‘‘That’s a pretty good sign you’ve done enough. 
You’re drawing on your nerves when you feel so 
light and airy. Every one gets that way after he’s 
caught his second wind and is thoroughly warmed 
up. But don’t let that fictitious feeling of strength 
fool you into overdoing. You can tell when you’ve 
gone far enough when you’ve had a little more ex- 
perience in after effects.’’ 
If I had taken this advice to heart instead of let- 
ting it go in one ear and out of the other I might 
have avoided, a little later, a very unpleasant expe- 
rience. ‘ 
We got to camp at five o’clock, just in time for 
supper. Horace had not yet arrived. Nor did he 
show up till after seven, when we were thinking of 
sending out a search party for him. When he 
. finally appeared he walked slowly and heavily, as if 
in the last stages of exhaustion. 
“The altitude got me,’’ he gasped, as he ap- 
proached, ‘‘I’ve never been affected this way be- 
fore.”’ 
He disappeared into his tent and groaned dis- 
mally. at intervals. 
Shortly afterward Frazer called me to one side. 
‘Look at this,’’ he exclaimed disgustedly, thrust- 
ing Horace’s notebook into my hand. It was a fear- 
ful and wonderful creation that Wetherby offered 
as a map. Elven I could see that the meaningless 
