f steeply at
the ends, its sides guarded by sheer cliffs.. It was these cliffs I
feared and strove to avoid. I had heard startling tales of the effects
of high altitude on one; how the atmosphere was very rare and light.
Had it been any heavier that day, I could not have survived. Violent
blasts of wind frequently bowled me over. After one of these falls, I
arose uncertainly, drifted with the wind for a moment's respite,
neglected to feel ahead with my staff--and walked out upon a snow
cornice that overhung the top of the cliff. The cornice broke away!
Amidst an explosion of snow I plunged downward, struggling frantically
as I went!

[Illustration: I plunged downward, struggling frantically.]

I landed in a snowdrift featherbed which, while it broke my fall,
almost buried me alive. The wind reached me only in occasional gusts,
so I realized that I must be sheltered by the cliff wall. In the first
brief lull I took my bearings. I had landed upon a narrow ledge a few
feet wide. Below me yawned the gorge. It was a terrible half hour's
work with a snowshoe as a shovel to extricate myself, but a few minutes
later I was once more on top.

Again I struggled upward. I reached the pass and started down the
western slope toward timber. My fingers and toes were frosted, I was
numb with cold, and so battered by the gale I could only pant. My
careful calculations had come to naught, as I was far behind the
schedule I had planned. I decided to make up time by abandoning the
trail and taking a shortcut to timber and shelter through an unknown
canyon which I thought led to Grand Lake.

But the canyon was hard going. Thick, young evergreens, entangling
willows and fallen logs impeded every step. I could make no headway
and darkness was coming on. Disgusted, despairing, I took to the
frozen stream, only to skid over icy bowlders and at last to break
through the ice crust into the frigid water.

Long after dark I staggered down the single street of Grand Lake toward
a dim patch of light. It proved to be the window of a store. Within
was a glowing stove, surrounded by a group of men.

The proprietor eyed me with suspicion. "Where'd you drop from?"

I waved vaguely toward the Continental Divide.

"Must 'a' bin something urgent to make you tackle the Flattop trail in
winter."

He awaited my explanations curiously--but I had slumped down near the
stove and was half asleep.

Next morning I looked back up the wa