t, while its surface was full of man-traps and
blind ways, the human spider might still find some hold for his claws.

The shadows were dark upon us, but the lofty, icy peaks of the main
range still lay bathed in the golden rays of the setting sun. There was
no time to be lost. A quick glance to the right and left, and Muir, who
had steered his course wisely across the glacier, attacked the cliff,
simply saying, "We must climb cautiously here."

Now came the most wonderful display of his mountain-craft. Had I been
alone at the feet of these crags I should have said, "It can't be done,"
and have turned back down the mountain. But Muir was my "control," as
the Spiritists say, and I never thought of doing anything else but
following him. He thought he could climb up there and that settled it.
He would do what he thought he could. And such climbing! There was never
an instant when both feet and hands were not in play, and often elbows,
knees, thighs, upper arms, and even chin must grip and hold. Clambering
up a steep slope, crawling under an overhanging rock, spreading out like
a flying squirrel and edging along an inch-wide projection while fingers
clasped knobs above the head, bending about sharp angles, pulling up
smooth rock-faces by sheer strength of arm and chinning over the edge,
leaping fissures, sliding flat around a dangerous rock-breast, testing
crumbly spurs before risking his weight, always going up, up, no
hesitation, no pause--that was Muir! My task was the lighter one; he did
the head-work, I had but to imitate. The thin fragment of projecting
slate that stood the weight of his one hundred and fifty pounds would
surely sustain my hundred and thirty. As far as possible I did as he
did, took his hand-holds, and stepped in his steps.

But I was handicapped in a way that Muir was ignorant of, and I would
not tell him for fear of his veto upon my climbing. My legs were all
right--hard and sinewy; my body light and supple, my wind good, my
nerves steady (heights did not make me dizzy); but my arms--there lay
the trouble. Ten years before I had been fond of breaking colts--till
the colts broke me. On successive summers in West Virginia, two colts
had fallen with me and dislocated first my left shoulder, then my right.
Since that both arms had been out of joint more than once. My left was
especially weak. It would not sustain my weight, and I had to favor it
constantly. Now and again, as I pulled myself up some dif