, and all together sang, "The Star-spangled Banner"
and "The Red, White, and Blue." Then "Jim" recited a very clever poem
of his own composition, and told some fearful Indian stories. A group
of small silver spruces away from the fire was my sleeping place. The
artist who had been up there had so woven and interlaced their lower
branches as to form a bower, affording at once shelter from the wind
and a most agreeable privacy. It was thickly strewn with young pine
shoots, and these, when covered with a blanket, with an inverted saddle
for a pillow, made a luxurious bed. The mercury at 9 P.M. was 12
degrees below the freezing point. "Jim," after a last look at the
horses, made a huge fire, and stretched himself out beside it, but
"Ring" lay at my back to keep me warm. I could not sleep, but the
night passed rapidly. I was anxious about the ascent, for gusts of
ominous sound swept through the pines at intervals. Then wild animals
howled, and "Ring" was perturbed in spirit about them. Then it was
strange to see the notorious desperado, a red-handed man, sleeping as
quietly as innocence sleeps. But, above all, it was exciting to lie
there, with no better shelter than a bower of pines, on a mountain
11,000 feet high, in the very heart of the Rocky Range, under twelve
degrees of frost, hearing sounds of wolves, with shivering stars
looking through the fragrant canopy, with arrowy pines for bed-posts,
and for a night lamp the red flames of a camp-fire.

Day dawned long before the sun rose, pure and lemon colored. The rest
were looking after the horses, when one of the students came running to
tell me that I must come farther down the slope, for "Jim" said he had
never seen such a sunrise. From the chill, grey Peak above, from the
everlasting snows, from the silvered pines, down through mountain
ranges with their depths of Tyrian purple, we looked to where the
Plains lay cold, in blue-grey, like a morning sea against a far
horizon. Suddenly, as a dazzling streak at first, but enlarging
rapidly into a dazzling sphere, the sun wheeled above the grey line, a
light and glory as when it was first created. "Jim" involuntarily and
reverently uncovered his head, and exclaimed, "I believe there is a
God!" I felt as if, Parsee-like, I must worship. The grey of the
Plains changed to purple, the sky was all one rose-red flush, on which
vermilion cloud-streaks rested; the ghastly peaks gleamed like rubies,
the earth and heav