ld fail?
Suppose it should grow quite dark?" I was mountaineer enough to shake
these fears off and keep up my spirits, but I knew how many had
perished on the prairie in similar storms. I calculated that if I did
not reach Longmount in half an hour it would be quite dark, and that I
should be so frozen or paralyzed with cold that I should fall off.

Not a quarter of an hour after I had wondered how long I could hold on
I saw, to my surprise, close to me, half-smothered in snow, the
scattered houses and blessed lights of Longmount, and welcome, indeed,
its wide, dreary, lifeless, soundless road looked! When I reached the
hotel I was so benumbed that I could not get off, and the worthy host
lifted me off and carried me in.

Not expecting any travelers, they had no fire except in the bar-room,
so they took me to the stove in their own room, gave me a hot drink and
plenty of blankets and in half an hour I was all right and ready for a
ferocious meal. "If there's a traveler on the prairie to-night, God
help him!" the host had said to his wife just before I came in.

I found Evans there, storm stayed, and that--to his great credit at the
time--my money matters were all right. After the sound and refreshing
sleep which one gets in this splendid climate, I was ready for an early
start, but, warned by yesterday's experience, waited till twelve to be
sure of the weather. The air was intensely clear, and the mercury
SEVENTEEN DEGREES BELOW ZERO! The snow sparkled and snapped under
one's feet. It was gloriously beautiful! In this climate, if you only
go out for a short time you do not feel cold even without a hat, or any
additional wrappings. I bought a cardigan for myself, however, and
some thick socks, got some stout snow-shoes for Birdie's hind feet, had
a pleasant talk with some English friends, did some commissions for the
men in the park, and hung about waiting for a freight train to break
the track, but eventually, inspirited by the good news from you, left
Longmount alone, and for the last time. I little thought that
miserable, broiling day on which I arrived at it with Dr. and Mrs.
Hughes, of the glories of which it was the gate, and of the "good
times" I should have. Now I am at home in it; every one in it and
along the St. Vrain Canyon addresses me in a friendly way by name; and
the newspapers, with their intolerable personality, have made me and my
riding exploits so notorious, that travelers speak courteo