omes on after hard climbing with want of food and sleep
in such exposure as this. Life is then seen to be a fire, that now
smoulders, now brightens, and may be easily quenched. The weary hours
wore away like dim half-forgotten years, so long and eventful they
seemed, though we did nothing but suffer. Still the pain was not always
of that bitter, intense kind that precludes thought and takes away all
capacity for enjoyment. A sort of dreamy stupor came on at times in
which we fancied we saw dry, resinous logs suitable for campfires, just
as after going days without food men fancy they see bread.

Frozen, blistered, famished, benumbed, our bodies seemed lost to us at
times--all dead but the eyes. For the duller and fainter we became the
clearer was our vision, though only in momentary glimpses. Then, after
the sky cleared, we gazed at the stars, blessed immortals of light,
shining with marvelous brightness with long lance rays, near-looking and
new-looking, as if never seen before. Again they would look familiar and
remind us of stargazing at home. Oftentimes imagination coming into play
would present charming pictures of the warm zone below, mingled with
others near and far. Then the bitter wind and the drift would break
the blissful vision and dreary pains cover us like clouds. "Are you
suffering much?" Jerome would inquire with pitiful faintness. "Yes,"
I would say, striving to keep my voice brave, "frozen and burned; but
never mind, Jerome, the night will wear away at last, and tomorrow we
go a-Maying, and what campfires we will make, and what sunbaths we will
take!"

The frost grew more and more intense, and we became icy and covered over
with a crust of frozen snow, as if we had lain cast away in the drift
all winter. In about thirteen hours--every hour like a year--day began
to dawn, but it was long ere the summit's rocks were touched by the sun.
No clouds were visible from where we lay, yet the morning was dull
and blue, and bitterly frosty; and hour after hour passed by while we
eagerly watched the pale light stealing down the ridge to the hollow
where we lay. But there was not a trace of that warm, flushing sunrise
splendor we so long had hoped for.

As the time drew near to make an effort to reach camp, we became
concerned to know what strength was left us, and whether or no we could
walk; for we had lain flat all this time without once rising to our
feet. Mountaineers, however, always find in themselves a re