Jetiete cA, Urs! BrORNGs BUI ei hel TN 13 
two climbs that day—his first and last. Those of us who did not climb 
rode up and had almost as good a view. 
Our ride from Schofield Basin to Crater Lake took us over West Maroon 
Pass, one ot the highest and steepest. Even Billy hesitated before taking 
the first downward step after reaching the knife-like edge of the summit 
and then began groaning. I was glad when we were down. At Crater 
Lake we had more rain and our morale almost broke. Maroon Bells Mt. 
and the lake were magnificent when we could see them. 
We lay over for another day hoping for clear skies for the ride over 
famous Buckskin Pass to Snowmass Lake, and we got them. Buckskin 
Pass, although over 13,000 feet high, was comparatively easy. The grades 
were not so steep, and there was plenty of room at the top for a long stay. 
Wally, a very shy, silent, seventeen-year-old boy was riding behind me. 
When we reached the top and the great panorama of Snowmass, Capital, 
Cathedral, Maroon Bells, etc., was revealed, I heard him exclaim, “My 
God!” He expressed my feelings, too. There were fourteen peaks over 
14,000 feet high to be seen. Here was the only place I felt the altitude or 
the entire trip and I yawned and yawned, as did the others. The youngesi 
member of the group, a girl of fifteen, was overcome. The doctor gave her 
something but it was some time after she got down before she felt all 
right again. 
I neglected to say that at Crater Lake we lost five horses. The boys 
rode all day hunting them during our day of rest there but we had to move 
on without them. That meant turning pack horses into saddle horses and 
loading the other pack horses more heavily. Probably the riders felt worse 
than the crew because they had had no previous experience in such matters. 
Snowmass was the beauty spot of the trip and deserves an entire article 
by itself. We stayed there three nights and had no rain! Everything was 
perfect. Only at the very last did the skies cloud over, figuratively speak- 
ing. Five more horses were missing, plus those of the four wranglers who 
had gone out to look for them and for the first five horses which had now 
been lost for four days. It was impossible to proceed and we waited all 
morning. Half-a-dozen agreed to walk to the next camp, but while we were 
eating lunch all ten horses were brought in and great was our rejoicing. 
The balance of the trip went off very smoothly. 
We camped for our last night in Lead King Basin, had lunch our last 
day in Thano’s, the cook’s yard, in Marble, gave up our dear horses, and 
took the bus to Glenwood Springs. After a farewell dinner at the Colorado 
Hotel seven of us departed on the midnight train for Denver. Those who 
were left were at the station and gave us a grand send-off, singing and 
yelling for a half hour, until the train carried us off into the night. 
ft ft FI 
THE IDEAL OBSERVER brings home a finer game than ever fell to shot or 
bullet. He has an eye for the fox, the rabbit and migrating waterfowl, but 
he sees them with loving and not with murderous eyes.—John Burroughs. 
