ect down to some brown hazy liquid shot
with the tenderest filaments of white. After analysis we discovered
the hazy brown liquid to be the earth of the plains, and the filaments
of white to be roads. Thus instructed we made out specks which were
towns. That was all.

The rest was too insignificant to classify without the aid of a
microscope.

And afterwards, across those plains, oh, many, many leagues, were the
Inyo and Panamit mountains, and beyond them Nevada and Arizona, and
blue mountains, and bluer, and still bluer rising, rising, rising
higher and higher until at the level of the eye they blended with the
heavens and were lost somewhere away out beyond the edge of the world.

We said nothing, but looked for a long time. Then we turned inland to
the wonderful great titans of mountains clear-cut in the crystalline
air. Never was such air. Crystalline is the only word which will
describe it, for almost it seemed that it would ring clearly when
struck, so sparkling and delicate and fragile was it. The crags and
fissures across the way--two miles across the way--were revealed
through it as through some medium whose transparence was absolute.
They challenged the eye, stereoscopic in their relief. Were it not for
the belittling effects of the distance, we felt that we might count the
frost seams or the glacial scorings on every granite apron. Far below
we saw the irregular outline of our lake. It looked like a pond a few
hundred feet down. Then we made out a pin-point of white moving
leisurely near its border. After a while we realized that the
pin-point of white was one of our pack-horses, and immediately the flat
little scene shot backwards as though moved from behind and
acknowledged its due number of miles. The miniature crags at its back
became gigantic; the peaks beyond grew thousands of feet in the
establishment of a proportion which the lack of "atmosphere" had
denied. We never succeeded in getting adequate photographs. As well
take pictures of any eroded little arroyo or granite canon. Relative
sizes do not exist, unless pointed out.

"See that speck there?" we explain. "That's a big pine-tree. So by
that you can see how tremendous those cliffs really are."

And our guest looks incredulously at the speck.

There was snow, of course, lying cold in the hot sun. This phenomenon
always impresses a man when first he sees it. Often I have ridden with
my sleeves rolled up and the front of my