pursued by a man lost in the clouds or the darkness. He
soon struck the trail of the wanderer, and, following it, discovered
Mitchell's body lying in a pool at the foot of a rocky precipice some
thirty feet high. It was evident that Mitchell, making his way along
the ridge in darkness or fog, had fallen off. It was the ninth (or the
eleventh) day of his disappearance, but in the pure mountain air the
body had suffered no change. Big Tom brought his companions to the
place, and on consultation it was decided to leave the body undisturbed
till Mitchell's friends could be present.

There was some talk of burying him on the mountain, but the friends
decided otherwise, and the remains, with much difficulty, were got down
to Asheville and there interred.

Some years afterwards, I believe at the instance of a society of
scientists, it was resolved to transport the body to the summit of Mount
Mitchell; for the tragic death of the explorer had forever settled in
the popular mind the name of the mountain. The task was not easy. A
road had to be cut, over which a sledge could be hauled, and the hardy
mountaineers who undertook the removal were three days in reaching the
summit with their burden. The remains were accompanied by a considerable
concourse, and the last rites on the top were participated in by a
hundred or more scientists and prominent men from different parts of
the State. Such a strange cortege had never before broken the silence
of this lonely wilderness, nor was ever burial more impressive than this
wild interment above the clouds.

We had been preceded in our climb all the way by a huge bear. That he
was huge, a lunker, a monstrous old varmint, Big Tom knew by the size of
his tracks; that he was making the ascent that morning ahead of us, Big
Tom knew by the freshness of the trail. We might come upon him at any
moment; he might be in the garden; was quite likely to be found in the
raspberry patch. That we did not encounter him I am convinced was not
the fault of Big Tom, but of the bear.

After a struggle of five hours we emerged from the balsams and briers
into a lovely open meadow, of lush clover, timothy, and blue grass. We
unsaddled the horses and turned them loose to feed in it. The meadow
sloped up to a belt of balsams and firs, a steep rocky knob, and
climbing that on foot we stood upon the summit of Mitchell at one
o'clock. We were none too soon, for already the clouds were preparing
for what appears t