Table Mountain is a truncated cone, from which fact it takes its name; but it is deeply fissured on every side, and on the west side there is an appalling gorge, over the edges of which, in places, colossal sheets of ice impend, vast ledges they appear, threatening the vegetation far down below, and rendering traveling along the slopes very dangerous. Having photographed Table Mountain and the fine scenery that is tributary, we descended and passed over to Mount Hallett, where we were delighted to find views of yet greater grandeur. The way to this mount is necessarily over Table Mountain and into Estes Park, the solid ramparts of rocks which surround the park, as far as Willow Cañon, preventing the access of pack animals. Gaining the base of Table Mountain, we followed up Timber Creek over a natural roadway until the foot of Hallett was reached. The way was easy and pleasant, being level and almost floored with moss and flowers, while many species of birds flitted across our path, and in and out through the trees and bushes, with voices of tuneful glee. As we ascended the mountain on the northeastern side, a magnificent view was presented down a deep gorge. A little higher up, and as we veered towards the west, we saw, a thousand feet below us, a deep, dark lake whose sides were walled, giving to it the appearance of a crater that had now become a lake basin. Still further up the steep, in a ravine, was another lake, the edges of which served to mark both the timber and snow line. Away off in the southeast was Long’s Peak, frowning in bleak desolation above a lake that hugged its feet. On every side the scenery was ruggedly sublime, while immediately at our right was a great chasm with a vertical wall of stone fully one thousand feet high. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration: THE GREAT WESTWARD FLOOD OF EMIGRATION—CROSSING THE PLATTE RIVER IN 1868 (from a painting).] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The timber was now below us, and our horses picked their way over an indistinct trail through patches of snow. Occasionally, there were suspicious places, where the snow was deeply impacted, which might conceal a treacherous way, a chasm bridged with nothing more substantial than cakes of ice. Yet, on this lonesome mountain, chilled by perpetually arctic winds, swathed by eternal snows, and covered by giant bowlders that menaced everything by their apparent instability, there was no scarcity of animal life. The mountain rat, chipmunk, woodchuck, Rocky Mountain sheep and a few lions make this uninviting region their haunt, while ptarmigan, or mountain grouse, are fairly plentiful. One enthusiastic photographer who climbed Hallett some years before, claimed to have found a herd of mountain sheep so tame that he was able to take their pictures, but none of us had such good fortune. [Illustration: FREMONT’S PASS, NORTH PARK.]