loring, resulted in a terrible cloudburst. Enormous
quantities of water were poured out, and this, falling upon the
treeless foothills, rushed away to do more than a million dollars'
damage in the rich and beautiful Poudre Valley.

Climbing Long's Peak

Among the best days that I have had outdoors are the two hundred and
fifty-seven that were spent as a guide on Long's Peak. One day was
required from the starting-place near my cabin for each round trip to
the summit of the peak. Something of interest occurred to enliven each
one of these climbs: a storm, an accident, the wit of some one or the
enthusiasm of all the climbers. But the climb I remember with greatest
satisfaction is the one on which I guided Harriet Peters, an
eight-year-old girl, to the top.

It was a cold morning when we started for the top, but it was this day
or wait until next season, for Harriet was to start for her Southern
home in a day or two and could not wait for a more favorable morning.
Harriet had spent the two preceding summers near my cabin, and around
it had played with the chipmunks and ridden the burros, and she had
made a few climbs with me up through the woods. We often talked of
going to the top of Long's Peak when she should become strong enough
to do so. This time came just after her eighth birthday. As I was as
eager to have her make the climb as she was to make it, we started up
the next morning after her aunt had given permission for her to go.
She was happy when I lifted her at last into the saddle, away up on
old "Top's" back. She was so small that I still wonder how she managed
to stay on, but she did so easily.

Long's Peak is not only one of the most scenic of the peaks in the
Rocky Mountains, but it is probably the most rugged. From our
starting-place it was seven miles to the top; five of these miles may
be ridden, but the last two are so steep and craggy that one must go
on foot and climb.

[Illustration: LONG'S PEAK FROM THE SUMMIT OF MT. MEEKER]

After riding a little more than a mile, we came to a clear, cold brook
that is ever coming down in a great hurry over a steep mountain-side,
splashing, jumping, and falling over the boulders of one of nature's
stony stairways and forming white cascades which throw their spray
among the tall, dark pines. I had told Harriet that ouzels lived by
this brook; she was eager to see one, and we stopped at a promising
place by the brook to watch. In less than a minute one