mountain, we stopped for rest and refreshment at a little log shanty erected by two enterprising young men, who there supplied luncheon and sleeping accommodations to the traveling public. The trail at that time was barely visible to the naked eye, and the climbing was difficult and somewhat dangerous even with our trained animals. Several hundred yards before we reached the timber line, so-called, we found Monroe lying in the path and apparently almost lifeless. The rare mountain air had scarcely left him oxygen enough to preserve life, and he had succumbed to the inevitable. We found near the timber line a shelving rock or rather a large cavity in the rock, where we took up our quarters for the night. Carrying Monroe to this place and wrapping him in blankets, we infused life into him by administering several doses of brandy, of which Judge Rice fortunately had a small flask. A large pine tree had fallen across the outer edge of this rock against which we could place our feet to prevent slipping over its edge, and here we all tried to sleep. A fearful thunder storm came up in the night, but fortunately the storm was below us. It was indeed a grand sight to see the forked lightnings darting through the clouds below us, without any apprehension of their finding our retreat. Our sleep, however, was very indifferent. We had been in the territory only about ten days and our breathing apparatus had not adjusted itself to the necessities of a life in these altitudes. We fairly gasped for breath. In the morning when we awoke we found that we could take our ponies no farther on the trail, for there was none visible to the eye. The remainder of the journey to the top of the peak was necessarily a climbing over huge rocks scattered here and there without reference to the convenience of adventurers. We could walk or rather climb about one hundred feet between rests and then fall down under the shadow of a great rock to recuperate enough strength for a venture of perhaps a hundred feet more. After climbing about four or five hundred feet or more in this manner we each began to feel a roaring in the ears and a nausea of the stomach, and at last had the discretion to call council in which we unanimously concluded with old Falstaff, one of Shakespeare's heroes, that the better part of valor was discretion, and we concluded to return to the valley below and forego the magnificence of a sunrise view from the top of Pike's Peak. When we got back upon our way as far as the timber line where we had hitched our ponies, I found my pony had taken "French leave" and gone down on the trail without waiting for my valuable company. I was doubtful at first whether I should be able to walk to camp, which was then over eight miles from the place of our night's adventure, but I had not proceeded down the mountain a mile before my strength returned to me and my lungs filled with sufficient oxygen to restore my vigor. We all got back to camp safely, even