it had delayed me a
day. I had brought with me only a pound of raisins, and had eaten
these during the first two days. I felt rather hungry, and almost
wished I had saved some of the salted peanuts that I had given Midget,
but I felt fresh and vigorous, and joyfully I made my way over the
snowy crest of the continent.

Late that night I came into the mining-town of Leadville. At the hotel
I found letters and a telegram awaiting me. This telegram told me that
it was important for me to come to the Pike's Peak National Forest at
the earliest possible moment.

After a light supper and an hour's rest, I again tied on my snowshoes,
and at midnight started to climb. The newly fallen snow on the steep
mountain-side was soft and fluffy. I sank so deeply into it and made
such slow progress that it was late in the afternoon of the next day
before I reached timber-line on the other side. The London mine lay a
little off my course, and knowing that miners frequently rode return
horses up to it, I thought that by going to the mine I might secure a
return horse to carry me back to Alma, which was about thirteen miles
away. With this in mind, I started off in a hurry. In my haste I
caught one of my webbed shoes on the top of a gnarly, storm-beaten
tree that was buried and hidden in the snow. I fell, or rather dived,
into the snow, and in so doing broke a snowshoe and lost my hat. This
affair delayed me a little, and I gave up going to the mine, but
concluded to go to the trail about a mile below it, and there
intercept the first return horse that came down. Just before I reached
the trail, I heard a horse coming.

As this trail was constantly used, the snow was packed down, while the
untrampled snow on each side of it lay from two to four feet deep.
Seeing that this pony was going to get past before I could reach the
trail, I stopped, took a breath, and called out to it. When I said,
"Hello, pony," the pony did not hello. Instead of slackening its pace,
it seemed to increase it. Knowing that this trail was one that Midget
had often to cover, I concluded as a forlorn hope to call her name,
thinking that the pony might be Midget. So I called out, "Hello,
Midget!" The pony at once stopped, looked all around, and gave a
delighted little whinny. It was Midget! The instant she saw me, she
tried to climb up out of the trail into the deep snow where I was, but
I hastened to prevent her. Leaping down by her side, I put my arm
around her ne