A DAY IN THE ROCKIES. 
BRUCE LEMMON. 
According to previous arrangement, the 
Doctor and I arose at 4. We put on our 
oldest clothes and our heaviest shoes; and 
went to town for breakfast. The Doctor 
carried his long range .30-30, with its mag- 
azine full; I carried a .25, with magazine 
and a pocket full of cartridges. I also car- 
ried a field glass. At the restaurant we 
found our third partner, Ed B., a miner. 
After breakfast we possessed ourselves of 
3 horses, mounted them, and in high spirits 
left town at 5.20 a. m. ; 
Our destination was the summit of 
Mount Shaveno; our purpose was the 
pleasure that lies in mountain climbing. 
Mount Shaveno lies in the Sangre de 
Christi range, some 10 miles West of Sal- 
ida, Colorado and is more than 100 feet 
higher than Pike’s Peak. It is not to be 
compared with Pike’s Peak for climbing 
purposes. Pike’s Peak has an established 
route to its summit, a good road all the 
way, ‘and, moreover, is not _excessively 
steep. Mount Shaveno is a wilderness on 
every side, has no road whatever, is very 
steep, and has, to cap it, 2 nearly perpen- 
dicular miles of loose granite boulders. 
At the foothills we struck abruptly off 
from the road and entered the timber by a 
cow trail. We followed some distance up 
a creek, made the horses jump a fence, 
crossed the creek, entered farther into the 
pine and cedar brush, climbed a long, low, 
grassy ridge, galloped its length and came 
down again into the dry bed of another 
creek that we followed up some 2 miles 
and again rode out on a brushy ridge. Al- 
ways our faces were toward the great, 
massive mountain towering above us, not- 
withstanding a great deal of zigzagging and 
cross windings. 
As we traveled lengthwise of the ridge, 
Ed first, the Doctor second and I in the 
rear, the Doctor said excitedly: 
“Stop! Get down quick!” Following his 
eyes I saw, on the crest of the next ridge 
to our left, 200 yards away, a deer, facing 
us, watching us. The Doctor dropped on 
one knee, raised his peep sights, and 
fired. The deer jumped and disappeared 
beyond the ridge. We gave chase, found 
abundant blood where he had stood, and 
carefully scrutinized the gulch below. Again 
we saw him, but he was at once gone. He 
was walking slowly. I saw him again, but 
had no time to shoot. Ed and I started 
off on his trail. like 2 dogs, while the Doc- 
tor watched. We trailed that deer 2 miles 
across ridges, through gulches, and he, as 
we saw from his trail, was bleeding and 
42 
moving slowly all the way. Once we 
scared a gray fox. After the 2 miles we 
gave up the chase and went back to the 
horses. Two hours lost, and nothing to 
show for it. 
We picked our way on up to timber line, 
drank long and deep from a clear, icy 
brook at our side and pushed on up. To the 
right of Shaveno is another peak, and be- 
tween the 2 is a low saddle, or ridge, at the 
head of a gulch which divides the 2 moun- 
tains from summit to base and which we 
had been following. We crossed a trans- 
verse ridge, and beheld one of the most 
beautiful scenes I ever saw. Directly in 
front of us was a deep, clear lake, 600 
yards long, and about 200 wide, perfectly 
walled in on 3 sides. Mount Shaveno’s 
precipitous’ side rises abruptly from the 
water on the left; her sister mountain 
leaves 100 yards of lake shore on the right, 
then rises as sharply; while straight ahead 
is another precipice of jagged crags and 
numerous miniature peaks, surmounted by 
rounded buttes. The small basin about the 
lake is covered with flowers, a sort of dan- 
delion with rich purple leaves, and others, 
about 6 inches high, resembling sunflowers. 
There was but one way out of the basin 
for us. The buttes at the upper end of the 
lake were between us and the saddle, there- 
fore we had to scale them. It was the most 
difficult piece of climbing I have ever done. 
The angle is 80 or 85 degrees; the foot- 
holds are scarce and small. We rested half 
a dozen times on our way up and ate snow 
from a drift at our side. At one o’clock 
we reached the crest of the saddle and were 
at least 12,000 feet high. We could barely 
see Salida, far down the valley. On the 
other side is another valley, small and com- 
pletely shut in by high mountains. To the 
West beyond this small basin, as far as the 
eye can reach, rise the summits of innumer- 
able peaks. We found a spring of icy 
water and by it ate our sandwiches, shel- 
tering ourselves on the sunny side of a 
large boulder, for a cold gale was blowing. 
Shaveno still loomed above us. The 
saddle runs North and South, at its South- 
ern end intersecting another small ridge; 
and at the Eastern extremity of this 
smaller one is the highest peak of Shaveno, 
whither we were bound. We climbed up, 
not over rocks only, but granite boulders, 
20 feet through. As we looked back we saw 
5 ground hogs playing in the basin below 
us. We also saw several fresh sheep 
tracks and some wool on the sharp corner 
of a rock. 

