There was an easy pass in the mountains directly opposite to me, through
which I caught a glimpse of an immeasurable extent of blue and distant
plains.
Easy? Yes, perfectly easy; grassed nearly to the summit, which was, as
it were, an open path between two glaciers, from which an inconsiderable
stream came tumbling down over rough but very possible hillsides, till it
got down to the level of the great river, and formed a flat where there
was grass and a small bush of stunted timber.
Almost before I could believe my eyes, a cloud had come up from the
valley on the other side, and the plains were hidden. What wonderful
luck was mine! Had I arrived five minutes later, the cloud would have
been over the pass, and I should not have known of its existence. Now
that the cloud was there, I began to doubt my memory, and to be uncertain
whether it had been more than a blue line of distant vapour that had
filled up the opening. I could only be certain of this much, namely,
that the river in the valley below must be the one next to the northward
of that which flowed past my master's station; of this there could be no
doubt. Could I, however, imagine that my luck should have led me up a
wrong river in search of a pass, and yet brought me to the spot where I
could detect the one weak place in the fortifications of a more northern
basin? This was too improbable.
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