he three of us had been in the habit of taking long Sunday afternoon
tramps in the mountains, but because of the cold weather we had been
pretty well shut in all winter. The snowfall for the season had been
heavy and the cold, especially in the mountains, had been intense. It
was the eighth of March, I think, and the very first signs of spring
had just put in their appearance. We decided that we would walk to the
Half-Way House on the Cog Road, or at least as far as we could. We
didn't know how much snow there was, or where it began, but we were all
feeling good and anxious for another real hike. We were all three dressed
in our Sunday clothes, and I was the proud possessor of a new spring suit
and a pair of low shoes. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon when
we started up the track from Manitou; by five o'clock we reached the
Half-Way House, and much to our surprise found the keeper there. We had
encountered very little or no snow that far on the track, and, as the
days were getting longer, we knew we had two good hours yet before dark.
We inquired of the inn keeper how far the track was open, and he informed
us that it was clear as far as Windy Point, that there the great ice
sheets began. There is always more snow on the great south shoulder of
the Peak than anywhere else. You remember Son-of-a-Gun Hill? Well, we
decided that we would push on to the top of Son-of-a-Gun, then come back.
We left the Half-Way House and started up the track. The walking was fine
on that flat stretch just after you leave the inn, and we covered space
very rapidly. At the bottom of the great hill, in a grove of young
aspens, we stopped and cut us some walking sticks.

"If it had been summer, and the snow and ice gone, we would probably have
noticed that there was a terrible storm gathering in the valley back of
Cameron's Cone; but with the range all white and dreary we did not notice
it. You fellows who have lived here near the mountain know that a storm
often rises up there as if by magic. They come so quickly you often
wonder where they came from. Of course, being directly in the shadow of
Pike's Peak, the sun went down very early, and our twilight was not as
long as we anticipated. I was the first to notice the cold breeze that
had sprung up, and I remarked about it; but we were walking fast and were
really too much interested in reaching the edge of the snow to pay much
attention to anything. Suddenly it grew dark and the wind in