creased. In
less than ten minutes we were in the midst of a howling mountain blizzard
and the snow was being driven before the wind at a terrific speed. John
suggested turning back, but Al and I were for pushing on, thinking it was
just a squall, and, as it seemed to be headed straight down the canyon,
we thought we would soon get above it. John insisted that we were crazy,
but we made all manner of fun of him, so on we went.

"'Fools rush in where angels fear to tread,' sometimes. That is just what
we did. We walked on in silence as fast as we could for half an hour.
Then we stopped and held a parley. We suddenly awoke from our little
dream of foolishness and began to realize that instead of getting out of
that storm, we had gotten into it. Up there on that great mountain side
we could not see ten feet in any direction. Above us and around us was a
raging sea of frozen pellets. The snow was drifting along the track, and
in some places it was already completely hidden. Night was coming, and
there was no shelter from the swirling winds. In number of miles we were
a good deal nearer the summit of the Peak than we were home, and
somewhere ahead of us was the old printing station. We would make for it
and its shelter--it would be foolish to expose ourselves to the storm by
returning in the open valley. Then, too, we might lose our way and slip
into the canyon below. We fought on bravely in the dark until finally the
wind went down a little and the snow grew soft and wet. Our shoes were
wet through and our bodies completely chilled, yet we could not find the
printing station. Had we passed it, or was it still ahead. We differed in
our opinions.

"Finally the snow ceased, and we could see about us a little by the
reflected light. We spied a few straggly trees and made for them, for we
were just at timber line. We found a great tree that had blown over,
and, breaking limbs from its prostrate trunk, we built a large fire and
sat on the log to dry our feet. We were now very keenly alive to our
situation, and knew it was becoming serious. We suddenly realized that
our only safety depended on the locating of that old printing station.
Our shoes were so wet and our feet so cold that the leather burned before
we knew it; but, as a real matter of fact, we didn't realize how badly
they were burned until an hour later, when the shoes began to crack away
in bits and the uppers to rip open along the seams.

"We reached the great snowba