Like the noble Duke of York,
Howard Eaton had led us "up a hill one day and led us down again." Only,
he did it every day.
Once, in my notebook, I wrote on top of a mountain my definition of a
mountain pass. I have used it before, but because it was written with
shaking fingers and was torn from my very soul, I cannot better it. This
is what I wrote:--
A pass is a blood-curdling spot up which one's
horse climbs like a goat and down the other side
of which it slides as you lead it, trampling ever
and anon on a tender part of your foot. A pass is
the highest place between two peaks. A pass is not
an opening, but a barrier which you climb with
chills and descend with prayer. A pass is a thing
which you try to forget at the time, and which you
boast about when you get back home.
At last came the day when we crossed the Gunsight Pass and, under Sperry
Glacier, looked down and across to the north and west. It was sunset and
cold. The day had been a long and trying one.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26