Over Harrison's Pass zvith a Pack-Train. 301 



the scattering of its contents of cans and kettles along 

 the way. 



In carrying and recarrying packages and provisions, 

 and in leading horses we crossed Harrison's Pass many 

 times that night. 



The last portion of our climb was literally up a flight 

 of stone stairs which we had cut out of the cliif's side. 

 So we stripped the horses of saddles and bridles and of 

 everything except light rope halters around their necks, 

 and up the rocks they climbed each one giving a grunt 

 of relief as the sweeping slope of the Kern Valley broke 

 upon his vision. 



It was 4:20 o'clock in the morning as the last horse 

 hooked his fore feet over the last stone step. As we 

 looked back over the vast waves of the snow-capped 

 peaks to the north ; the northern lights flashed across the 

 sky their wondrously colored streamers. It seemed a 

 celebration of our success. 



But we soon turned to less awesome things and 

 opened a can of tomatoes. We turned the horses loose. 

 The Doctor started out afoot for the water and the wood 

 in the valley below, leading his favorite horse. I watched 

 them until they looked like some stray straddlebug crawl- 

 ing into the timber-line. Then on the top of the Pass, 

 in its very curve, and among the perennial snows, I rolled 

 into a blanket and into a dreamless slumber. The horses 

 hung their heads or nibbled the sparse grass or searched 

 for the snow rivulets. 



I do not know how long I slept. I awaked with my 

 eyes staring into an immeasurable abyss of blue without 

 a speck in its infinite expanse, with the sensation that I 

 was falling into it from a vast height; .1 gave one cry 



