Being so eager to start for the climb, the four younger members of the group promised instantly. And off they started.
The altitude of Humphrey’s Peak is 12,750 feet, and the approach to the summit is made over a gradually ascending road and trail made through mighty forests of pine. Aspens grow in thick profusion here and there—so thick, indeed, that one could not thread a way between the trunks without chopping away the obstruction. Reaching timber line, however, nothing grows beyond to hide the bare crags which continue on up to the very summit.
On the ride through the magnificent forest the guide told of the extensive view to be had from the peak—directly north, fifty miles away, one could see the walls of the Grand Canyon; still farther, were the Buckskin Mountains of the Kaibab Plateau; to the north-east one might see the Painted Desert, and beyond that the Navajo Mountain. Then, turning southward, one could see the White Mountains; and, gazing westward, one saw the Mogollon Plateau and other famous ranges. The Santa Fé railroad threaded the valley east and west like a winding serpent with head and tail hidden from sight. Small towns and settlements dotted the country, and gave the necessary action to the wonderful picture.
“But I doubt if you will see these sights to-day, friends,” concluded the guide. “If you reach timberline without freezing in the saddle, you will do well.”
“I’m sure you do not appreciate our hardihood,” declared Polly impatiently. “I was brought up in the Rocky Mountains, near the highest peaks, and I am accustomed to this life.”
“You forget, Polly, that several years in New York City, in steam-heated houses, and the enervating life we live there, may have changed your hardihood,” remarked Mrs. Courtney, gently.
“Oh, well! that remains to be seen,” retorted Polly.
Nothing more was said about the hazards to be met on the way, and thereafter every one felt buoyant and happy, because of the delight in riding good horses and the exhilarating air of the mountains.
Up and up and up climbed the well-trained horses, and finally the guide called a halt to rest the beasts. The riders leaped from the saddles and stretched their legs and arms for a time, then walked around to investigate the plateau. Only a few minutes were allowed for the rest, then the guide called them to re-mount. As they ran to obey, Jack thought he saw a snowflake whirl across his vision. But he would not report it.
By the time all were ready to resume the ride, Jack was sure he saw another flake of snow falling slowly upon the horn of his saddle, still he would not speak of it.