me,
came to the door. Then I realized where I was, and recognized the
"strange" valley, the "unfamiliar" ridge and my neighbors' houses. I
had traveled in a ten-mile circle. The fall with the deer hadn't
exactly dazed me--I wasn't unconscious--but it had jarred shut the
window of my memory, and though almost at my own door, there was
"nobody home."

The best example of storm causing one to lose one's way is the
experience of Miss Victoria Broughm, the first woman to climb Long's
Peak alone. She started one September morning from a hotel at the foot
of the Peak, taking a dog as her companion. She tethered her horse at
bowlderfield, where horses are usually left, and without difficulty, or
delay, made the summit. Just as she reached the top, a storm struck
the mountain and, inside of a few minutes, hid the trail. Pluckily
Miss Broughm worked her way down, tacking back and forth, mistaking the
way but making progress. She was afraid to trust the dog to guide her.
Late in the evening she descended the trough, a steep rock-filled gully
that extends far below the timberline. The trail goes only part way
down this slide, then tacks across to Keyhole. In the storm she could
not distinguish the cairns that marked the turn-off, and continued on
down the trough far below the trail and was lost.

That evening when she did not return to the hotel, a searching party
set out to find her. But a terrific hundred-mile gale was raging upon
the heights. The searching party found it almost impossible to battle
their way above the timberline and after many ineffectual attempts,
they returned, nearly frozen, without tidings of the lost girl.

William S. Copper, Carl Piltz and myself set out at midnight for the
Peak. The wind that met us at the timberline halted our horses, even
jolted them off the trail. Just above the timberline my horse pricked
his ears toward a sheltered cove and gave a little whinny. We hurried
forward hoping to find Miss Broughm. But only her horse was there,
dragging its picket rope. We proceeded to bowlderfield.

The night was moonless and half cloudy. The wind shrieked among the
rim rocks and boomed against the cliffs. Our lantern would not stay
lighted. Time and again we crept beneath a rock slab and relighted it
only to have it snuffed out the instant we emerged into the wind.
Across the rocks we crept, crouching like wary wrestlers. When sudden
blasts knocked us off our feet, we dropped fla