SNOW-BLINDED ON THE SUMMIT 7 



timberline I had had a vague feehng that I might 

 be travelhng in a circle, and might return to trees 

 on the western slope of the Divide up which I had 

 climbed. When I walked out on the edge of the 

 cliff the feeling that I had doubled to the western 

 slope became insistent. If true, this was most 

 serious. To reach the nearest house on the west 

 side of the range would be extremely difficult, 

 even though I should discover just where I was. 

 But I believed I was somewhere on the eastern 

 slope. 



I tried to figure out the course I had taken. Had 

 I, in descending from the heights, gone too far to 

 the right or to the left? Though fairly well ac- 

 quainted with the country along this timberline, 

 I was unable to recall a rocky cliff at this point. 

 My staff found no bottom and warned me that I 

 was at a jumping-ofif place. 



Increasing coolness indicated that night was 

 upon me. But darkness did not matter, my light 

 had failed at noon. Going back along my trail a 

 short distance I avoided the cliff and started on 

 through the night down a rocky, forested, and snow- 

 covered slope. I planned to get into the bottom 

 of a canon and follow downstream. Every few 

 steps I shouted, hoping to attract the attention of 

 a possible prospector, miner, or woodchopper. No 

 voice answered. The many echoes, however, gave 

 me an idea of the topography — of the mountain 

 ridges and canons before me. I listened intently 



