sters
until he arrived at Astoria.[O]

I have read somewhere (I think in Washington Irving's "Astoria" or
"Bonneville's Adventures") that the Indians regard this ridge of
mountains as the crest of the world, and that among the Blackfeet there
is a fable that he who attains its summit catches a view of the "Land of
Souls" and beholds the "Happy Hunting Grounds" spread out below him,
brightening with the abodes of the free and generous spirits.

Lieutenant Doane and I were somewhat fatigued with our climb of four
hours' duration, and we refreshed ourselves with such creature comforts
as we found on the summit; but, although we attained the "crest," we did
not discern any "free and generous spirit," save that which we saw
"through a glass darkly."

At the point where we left our horses there was, on the east slope of
the mountain, a body of snow, the surface of which was nearly
horizontal, and the outer edge of which was thirty feet in perpendicular
height. This body of snow is perpetual. At this point the elevation, as
indicated by our aneroid barometer, was 9,476 feet, while at the summit
it was 10,327 feet, a difference of 581 feet, which was the broken
granite summit.

The descent occupied an hour and a quarter, when we struck the trail of
the pack train near the base of the mountain, which we followed until we
found three poles placed in the form of a tripod, the longer pole
pointing to the right to indicate that at this point the party had
changed its course.

[Illustration: Marker made of sticks.]

Obeying this Indian sign, we descended the bank bordering the valley and
traversed the bottom lands to the river, which we forded at a point
where it was about ninety feet wide and three feet deep, with a current
of about six miles an hour. This was about six or seven miles from the
mouth of the river. We followed the trail of the advance party through a
beautiful pine forest, free from underbrush, for the distance of two
miles, passing two beautiful lakes. By this time night had overtaken us,
and it was with difficulty that we could follow the trail, the tracks of
the horses' shoes, which were our sole guide, being hardly discernible.
But we pressed on, following the dark, serpentine line of freshly
disturbed earth till it turned up the side of the mountain, where we
followed it for upwards of a mile. Fearing lest we were not upon the
right trail, we dismounted, and, placing our faces close to the ground,
examine