ce of the panorama, their pulses tingling and
their feelings in many cases too exalted for expression; but those whose
business or duty it was to remain on the summit day after day soon found
life growing monotonous, and longed to set their eyes on some patch of
verdure. To the visitors, however, who were in hale physical condition,
the panorama of snow-clad ranges and isolated peaks was almost
overwhelming. In the gorges and sheltered depressions of the old
mountain's sides large fields of snow still gleamed in the sun and
imparted to the air a frosty crispness.

When the crowd of tourists, after posing for their photographs, had
departed on the descending car, I walked out over the summit to see what
birds, if any, had selected an altitude of fourteen thousand one hundred
and forty-seven feet above sea-level for their summer home. Below me, to
the east, stretched the gray plains running off to the skyline, while
the foothills and lower mountains, which had previously appeared so high
and rugged and difficult of access, now seemed like ant-hills crouching
at the foot of the giant on whose crown I stood. Off to the southwest,
the west, and the northwest, the snowy ranges towered, iridescent in
the sunlight. In contemplating this vast, overawing scene, I almost
forgot my natural history, and wanted to feast my eyes for hours on its
ever-changing beauty; but presently I was brought back to a
consciousness of my special vocation by a sharp chirp. Was it a bird, or
only one of those playful little chipmunks that abound in the Rockies?
Directly there sounded out on the serene air another ringing chirp, this
time overhead, and, to my delight and surprise, a little bird swung over
the summit, then out over the edge of the cliff, and plunged down into
the fearsome abyss of the "Bottomless Pit." Other birds of the same
species soon followed his example, making it evident that this was not a
birdless region. Unable to identify the winged aeronauts, I clambered
about over the rocks of the summit for a while, then slowly made my way
down the southern declivity of the mountain for a short distance. Again
my ear was greeted with that loud, ringing chirp, and now the bird
uttering it obligingly alighted on a stone not too far away to be seen
distinctly through my binocular. Who was the little waif that had chosen
this sky-invading summit for its summer habitat? At first I mistook it
for a horned lark, and felt so sure my decision was c