The travelers were viewing the wonderful panorama from a height of fully twelve thousand feet, and only in the western portions of the range were points that were higher. To the east the range dropped much lower, and when the boys turned that way they saw, off on the dim horizon, a level line that was, without doubt, the Caspian. “Gee! Sid,” exclaimed Raymond as they gazed in wonder, “I thought I had been on mountains before, but this beats everything.” “And such a difference!--the dead of winter on one side, and the middle of summer on the other.” “No wonder we were cold back there,” said Raymond, as he looked over the snowy wastes through which they had passed. “But, jiminy, won’t I be glad to get down on that side!” And he turned with longing to the warmth and beauty of the south. “It will be a short job to get down,” said Sidney; “it’s almost a straight drop.” “How about the trail?” suggested Raymond; “there certainly is none in sight here.” When the boys looked down on the slope immediately below them they saw, what they had not before observed, in their enthusiasm over the view, that the snow did not descend more than half a mile on that side. The trail across the summit was entirely obliterated, at least, the boys could find none; and for a short distance down the south side also, none appeared. A little farther down, however, the snow was melted along the line of the trail, leaving it plainly visible, while on either side the ground was covered thick. Beyond the snow, also, the road could occasionally be seen where an angle of it came out on some ridge. “You see, Ray,” said Sidney, “it’s not far to a good trail at any rate. We can go down that ridge, and we’ll soon be out of the deep snow.” “Yes, and then we’ll be in slush.” “Well, that won’t last long, either. And I’d rather have a little slush than much of such work as we had this morning.” “Heck! Sid,” said Raymond, “I hope that country down there will be like western Texas in the winter, with no rain.” “Remember,” said Sidney, “that western Texas sometimes has northers, and they’re worse than rain.” “I’ll guarantee there’ll be no northers down there,” declared Raymond. “It would take a pretty vigorous norther to get over these mountains.” “Well, once we’re down, we shan’t wait for one; we’ll hike right on to Tiflis and the railroad. It seems as though we ought almost to see Tiflis from here.” “I’ll bet we could if we had glasses. Gee! wouldn’t it be swell to have a pair of prism binoculars? We could see everything from the Black Sea to the Caspian, and the other way to Nizhni.” “They would be good ones.” And Sidney laughed. “But we don’t want to take it all out in looking. It must be about noon; suppose we eat a lunch and then start down.” “No more lunches in the snow for me,” declared Raymond. “I’ll take my next lunch on _terra firma_.” “All right,” assented Sidney; “then we’d better get a move on.”