about the success and wisdom of our undertaking.
"See!" he said, "the trail's covered with snow in many places on the
mountain side. I'm afraid you can't reach the top, sir." I did not see
as clearly as he did, but said nothing aloud. In my mind I shouted,
"Excelsior!" and then added, mentally, of course, "Faint heart never won
fair lady or fairer mountain's crest--hurrah for the peak!" I simply
felt that if there were birds and butterflies on that sky-aspiring
tower, I _must_ see them. The die was cast; we had come to Colorado
expressly to climb Gray's Peak, and climb it we would, or have some good
reason to give for not doing so.

And now we were making the attempt. We had scarcely reached the
mountain's shoulder before we were obliged to wade snow. For quite a
distance we were able to creep along the edge of the trail, or skirt the
snow-beds by making short detours, and then returning to the trail; but
by and by we came to a wide, gleaming snow-field that stretched right
athwart our path and brought us to a standstill with the exclamation,
"What shall we do now?" Having already sunk a number of times into the
snow over our boot-tops, we felt that it would not be safe to venture
across so large an area of soft and treacherous crystals melting in the
afternoon sun and only slightly covering we knew not what deep gorges.
In some places we had been able to walk on the top of the snow, but
elsewhere it was quite soft, and we could hear the gurgling of water
underneath, and sometimes it sounded a little more sepulchral than we
liked. Looking far up the acclivity, we saw still larger snow-fields
obliterating the trail. "We can never cross those snow-fields," one of
us declared, a good deal of doubt in his tones. A moment's reflection
followed, and then the other exclaimed stoutly, "Let us climb straight
up, then!" To which his companion replied, "All right, little Corporal!
Beyond the Alps lies Italy!"

Over rocks and stones and stretches of gravel, sometimes loose,
sometimes solid, we clambered, half the time on all fours, skirting the
snow-fields that lay in our unblazed pathway; on and up, each cheering
the other at frequent intervals by crying lustily, "We can make it! We
can make it!" ever and anon throwing ourselves on the rocks to recover
our breath and rest our aching limbs; on and up we scrambled and crept,
like ants on a wall, until at length, reaching the ridge at the left a
little below the top, we again struc