," I declared. "This is
only the first half of our wedding journey; the other part shall include
Washington, Boston, and New York."

Zulime looked somewhat incredulous (she didn't know me yet), but her
eyes glowed with pleasure at the thought of the capital, of which she
knew nothing, and of New York, which she knew only as a seaport. "I
thought you were poor," she said.

"So I am," I replied, "but I intend to educate you in American
geography."

The railway enters the Ouray amphitheater from the west and stops--for
the very good reason that it can go no farther!--but from the railway
station a stage road climbs the precipitous eastern wall and leads on to
Red Mountain, as through an Alpine pass. Over this divide I now planned
to drive to Silverton, and thence to Durango by way of Las Animas Canon.
Zulime, with an unquestioning faith in me--a faith which I now think of
with wonder--agreed to this crazy plan. Her ignorance of the cold, the
danger involved, made her girlishly eager to set forth. She was like a
child in her reliance on my sagacity and skill.

We left Ouray, at eight of a bitter morning, in a rude sleigh with only
a couple of cotton quilts to defend us from the cold, and when, after a
long climb up a wall of stupendous cliffs with roaring streams shouting
from their icy beds upon our right, we entered an aisle of frosty pines
edging an enormous ledge, where frozen rills hung in motionless
cascades, Zulime, enraptured by the radiant avenues which opened out at
every turn of our icy upward trail, became blind to all danger. The
flaming, golden light flinging violet shadows, vivid as stains of ink
along the crusted slopes, dazzled her, caused her to forget the icy wind
or, at any rate, to patiently endure it.

At Red Mountain, a mournful, half-buried, deserted mining town, we left
our sleigh and stumbled into the dingy little railway station, so
chilled, so cramped, that we could scarcely walk, and yet we did not
regret our ride. However, we were glad of the warmth of the dirty little
coach into which we climbed a few minutes later. It seemed delightfully
safe to Zulime, and I was careful not to let her know that from this
town the train descended of its own weight all the way to Silverton!

Fortunately, nothing happened, and at Silverton we changed to a real
train, with a real engine, and as we dropped into Las Animas Canon we
left December behind. At six o'clock we emerged from the canon at
Durango in