ing cheer. Drooping heads
straightened; tottering steps gave place to firm, eager strides. Buoyed
up by renewed hope, we hurried down the hillside and along the stream
bank until in the gathering twilight we could see with certainty where
the stream wound its way into the mountain cleft. Assured of this
all-important fact, we made our bivouac in a grove of pines, and settled
down to the happiest night we had known in weeks.

Bright and early in the morning we broke camp and trudged along through
the snow, down the bank of the creek. Soon we found ourselves within the
flanking shoulders of the mountains, descending a gorge that was walled
on either side with almost sheer cliffs. I should speak of these
precipices as stupendous had I not first seen the terrific chasm of the
far narrower and deeper gorge of the Arkansas.

To our vast relief, the bed of the pass proved to be broad and open
throughout, being clear even of blocking snowdrifts. That it was
habitually open was evident from the number of trees we found painted
with Indian signs, clear proof that this was one of the accustomed paths
of the roaming savages of the Far West. What most astonished us was the
length of the gorge, which wound and twisted its way through the heart
of the White Mountains in seemingly endless extent.

At last, after we had marched downward for twelve or fourteen miles, a
sudden turn unmasked to our gaze a view that brought us up short in our
tracks, with cries of astonishment and delight. Instead of the narrow
mountain valley that we had expected to open before us, there burst upon
our vision the panorama of a vast park-like country, dotted with
scattered woods and groves, through which meandered numerous branching
streams whose main trunk flowed to the southward. It was many miles
across to the mountain range which bounded the western side of this
beautiful valley.

Pike was the first among us to find his voice. "Men," he said simply,
"we have won free. The worst is now behind us. This Western country is
far lower than the plateau on the east side. It must be less cold; see
the wide stretches of open ground. There must be game--"

"Ay! look!" I said, pointing to a multitude of black dots drifting
across a snowy hillside. "Deer! a herd!"

"An' more on 'em to yan side, sir!" sang out one of the men.

"No more fear of famine!" exulted Pike. "We're safe at last!"

"But how as to savages?" I rejoined. "I see no smoke; yet in a country