THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN WONDERLAND r I f 4 ^^m^-^-^Sri ENOS A. MILLS YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Gift of Mrs. Walter J. Wohlenberg This book was digitized by Microsoft Corporation in cooperation with Yale University Library, 2008. You may not reproduce this digitized copy of the book for any purpose other than for scholarship, research, educational, or, in limited quantity, personal use. You may not distribute or provide access to this digitized copy (or modified or partial versions of it) for commercial purposes. ¦33p dtnae a. JKillB THE GRIZZLY, OUR GREATEST WILD ANIMAL. Illustrated. YOUR NATIONAL PARKS. Illustrated. THE STORY OF SCOTCH. Illustrated. THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN WONDERLANO. Illustrated. THE STORY OF A THOUSAND-YEAR PINE. Illustrated. IN BEAVER WORLD. IUustrated. THE SPELL OF THE ROCKIES. Illustrated. WILD LIFE ON THE ROCKIES. Illustrated. HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY Boston ahd New York Q?oc6j> (Mlounfoin TDonittfani A WILD GARDEN IN THE WONDERLAND On the Eastern Boundary-Line of the Rocky Mountain National Park t$t (Koc^ (mountain TEonbatfanb 6no0 gl. QTliCfo 1X>tf0 Wuetxations from (pfotegrapfa Boston and (Jtei» ^orft ^oug^ton (Jttiffftn (Company $0e (Ribersi&e (press |Volorado has one thousand peaks thatfrise ^¦^ more than two miles into the sky. About one hundred and fifty of these reach up beyond thirteen thousand feet in altitude. There are more than twice as many peaks of fourteen thousand feet in Colorado as in all the other States of the Union. An enormous area is en tirely above the limits of tree-growth ; but these heights above the timber-line are far from being barren and lifeless. Covering these mountains with robes of beauty are forests, lakes, mead ows, brilliant flowers, moorlands, and vine-like streams that cling to the very summits. This entire mountain realm is delightfully rich in plant and animal life, from the lowest meadows to the summits of the highest peaks. Each year the State is colored with more than three thousand varieties of wild flowers, cheered by more than four hundred species of birds, and enlivened with a numerous array of other wild vii (preface life. Well has it been called the "Playground of America." It is an enormous and splendid hanging wild garden. This mountain State of the Union has al ways appealed to the imagination and has called forth many graphic expressions. Thus Colorado sought statehood from Congress under the name of Tahosa, — " Dwellers of the Moun tain-Tops." Even more of poetic suggestive- ness has the name given by an invading Indian tribe to the Arapahoes of the Continental Divide, — "Men of the Blue Sky." I have visited on foot every part of Colo rado and have made scores of happy excursions through these mountains. These outings were in every season of the year and they brought me into contact with the wild life of the heights in every kind of weather. High peaks by the score have been climbed and hundreds of miles cov ered on snowshoes. I have even followed the trail by night, and by moonlight have enjoyed the solemn forests, the silent lakes, the white cascades, and the summits of the high peaks. The greater part of this book deals with na- viii (preface ture and with my own experiences in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. Some of the chapters in slightly different form have been printed in various publications. The Saturday Evening Post published "The Grizzly Bear," "Wild Folk of the Mountain-Summits," "Wild Moun tain Sheep," "Associating with Snow-Slides," "The Forest Frontier," " Bringing back the For est, " and "Going to the Top." Country Life in America published "A Mountain Pony"; The Youth's Companion, "Some Forest History"; Recreation, "Drought in Beaver World"; and Our Dumb Animals, "My Chipmunk Callers." The editors of these publications have kindly consented to the publishing of these papers in this volume. E. A. M. Long's Peak, Estes Park, Colorado, January, 1915. (Confenfo Going to the Top i Wild Mountain Sheep 21 The Forest Frontier 47 The Chinook Wind 67 Associating with Snow-Slides 77 Wild Folk of the Mountain-Summits .... 99 Some Forest History 123 Mountain Lakes 147 A Mountain Pony 167 The Grizzly Bear 185 Bringing back the Forest 209 Mountain Parks 227 Drought in Beaver World 247 In the Winter Snows 257 My Chipmunk Callers 275 xi Contents A Peak by the Plains 293 The Conservation of Scenery 311 The Rocky Mountain National Park . . . 333 Index 355 fflmtxationB A Wild Garden in the Wonderland, on the Eastern Boundary-Line of the Rocky Mountain National Park Frontispiece The Narrows, Long's Peak Trail 14 A Wild Mountain Sheep 40 The Way of the Wind at Timber-Line ... 52 A Timber-Line Lake in Northwestern Colorado . . 64 Lizard Head Peak in the San Juan Mountains . . 84 Photograph by George L. Beam. Alpine Pastures above Timber-Line, near Specimen Mountain in the Rocky Mountain National Park . 104 Photograph by John K. Sherman. At the Edge of the Arctic-Alpine Life Zone in the San Juan Mountains 116 Photograph by George L. Beam. A Western Yellow Pine 126 Crystal Lake; a Typical Glacier Lake . . . .150 Trapper's Lake J 58 Cricket, the Return Horse, at the Summit of the Pass 172 xiii yttMtx&iions Looking Eastward from Lizard Head . . . .180 Overgrown Cones in the Heart of a Lodge-Pole Pine . 222 Photograph by Herbert W. Gleason. A Mountain Park in the San Juan Mountains . 230 Capitol Peak and Snow Mass Mountain from Galena Park, Colorado 242 Photograph by L. C. McClure, Denver. A Deer in Deep Snow, Rocky Mountain National Park 260 Entertaining a Chipmunk Caller 278 Photograph by Frank C. Ervin. Pike's Peak from the Top of Cascade Canon . . 296 Photograph by Photo-Craft Shop, Colorado Springs. The Continental Divide near Estes Park . . . 314 Long's Peak from Loch Vale 322 Photograph by George C. Barnard. Map of the Rocky Mountain National Park . . . 336 Estes Park Entrance to the Rocky Mountain Na tional Park 340 Photograph by Mrs. M. K. Sherman. The Fall River Road across the Continental Divide in the Rocky Mountain National Park .... 344 Photograph by W. T. Parke. Except as otherwise noted the illustrations are from photographs by the author. *i0*y-. fa- ¦ ¦ S ¦- f; if" > ¦ \'h ii {¦¦ ' t f >, »w M THE NARROWS, LONG'S PEAK TRAIL (Figures of climbers can be made out on the trail) (mountain £0eep I flung myself beneath the few inches of pro jecting wall. The ram simply made a wild leap off the ledge. This looked like a leap to death. He plunged down at an angle to the wall, head forward and a trifle lower than the rump, with feet drawn upward and thrust forward. I looked over the edge, hoping he was making a record jump. The first place he struck was more than twenty feet below me. When the fore feet struck, his shoulder blades jammed upward as though they would burst through the skin. A fraction of a second later his hind feet also struck and his back sagged violently; his belly must have scraped the slope. He bounded upward and outward like a heavy chunk of rubber. This contact had checked his deadly drop and his second striking-place was on a steeply inclined buttress; apparently in his momentary contact with this he altered his course with a kicking action of the feet. There was lightning-like foot action, and from this striking-place he veered off and came down violently, feet first, upon a shelf of 3i (gocfig (ntountoin TX?onoetf anb granite. With a splendid show of physical power, and with desperate effort, he got him self to a stand with stiff-legged, sliding bounds along the shelf. Here he paused for a second, then stepped out of sight behind a rock point. Feeling that he must be crippled, I hurriedly scrambled up and out on a promontory from which to look down upon him. He was trot ting down a slope without even the sign of a limp! Sheep do sometimes slip, misjudge a dis tance, and fall. Usually a bad bruise, a wrenched joint, or a split hoof is the worst injury, though now and then one receives broken legs or ribs, or even a broken neck. Most accidents appear to befall them while they are fleeing through territory with which they are unacquainted. In strange places they are likely to have trouble with loose stones, or they may be compelled to leap without knowing the nature of the land ing-place. A sheep, like a rabbit or a fox, does his great est work in evading pursuers in territory with which he is intimately acquainted. If closely 32 TW& (mountain £0eep pursued in his own territory, he will flee at high speed up or down a precipice, perform seem ingly impossible feats, and triumphantly escape. But no matter how skillful, if he goes his ut most in a new territory, he is as likely to come to grief as an orator who attempts to talk on a subject with which he is not well acquainted. It is probable that most of the accidents to these masters of the crags occur when they are making a desperate retreat through strange precipitous territory. In the Elk Mountains a flock of sheep were driven far from their stamping-ground and while in a strange country were fired upon and pur sued by hunters. They fled up a peak they had not before climbed. The leader leaped upon a rock that gave way. He tumbled off with the rock on top. He fell upon his back — to rise no more. A ewe missed her footing and in her fall knocked two others over to their death, though she regained her footing and escaped. One day a ram appeared on a near-by sky line and crossed along the top of a shattered knife-edge of granite. The gale had driven me 33 (gocfig (Wtountirin TUonbetfanb to shelter, but along he went, unmindful of the gale that was ripping along the crags and knock ing things right and left. Occasionally he made a long leap from point to point. Now and then he paused to look into the canon far below. On the top of the highest pinnacle he stopped and became a splendid statue. Presently he rounded a spur within fifty feet of me and commenced climbing diagonally up a wall that appeared almost vertical and smooth. My glass showed that he was walking along a mere crack in the rock, where footholds existed mostly in im agination. On this place he would stop and scratch with one hind foot and then rub the end of a horn against the wall ! As he went on up, the appearance was like a stage effect, as though he were sustained by wires. At the end of the crack he reared, hooked his fore feet over a rough point, and drew himself up like an athlete, with utter in difference to the two hundred feet of drop be neath him. From this point he tacked back and forth until he had ascended to the bottom of a vertical gully, which he easily mastered with 34 TXtito QKlountain £0eep a series of zigzag jumps. In some of these he leaped several feet almost horizontally to gain a few inches vertically. Occasionally he leaped up and struck with his feet in a place where he could not stand, but from which he leaped to a place more roomy. His feet slipped as he landed from one high jump; instantly he pushed him self off backward and came down feet foremost on the narrow place from which he had just leaped. He tried again and succeeded. The edges of sheep's hoofs are hard, while the back part of the bottom is a rubbery, gristly pad, which holds well on smooth, steep sur faces. Cooperating with these excellent feet are strong muscles, good eyes, and keen wits. Wild sheep are much larger than tame ones. They are alert, resourceful, and full of energy. Among the Colorado bighorns the rams are from thirty-eight to forty-two inches high, and weigh from two hundred to three hundred and fifty pounds. The ewes are a third smaller. The common color is grayish brown, with under parts and inside of the legs white. In the north there is one pure-white species, while on neigh- 35 (RocGg (fltounfain TUonbetfanb boring ranges there is a black species. Though wild sheep usually follow a leader, each one is capable of independent action. Tame sheep are stupid and silly; wild sheep are wide-awake and courageous. Tame sheep are dirty and smelly, while wild sheep are as well-groomed and clean as the cliffs among which they live. In discussing wild life many people fail to discriminate between the wild sheep and the wild goats. The goat has back-curving spike horns and a beard that makes the face every inch a goat's. Though of unshapely body and awkward gait, his ungainliness intensified by his long hair, the goat is a most skillful climber. The sheep excel him for speed, grace, and, per haps, alertness. It is believed that the three or four species of sheep found in the wilds of America had their origin in Asia. In appearance and habits they bear a striking resemblance to the sheep which now inhabit the Asiatic mountains. Wild sheep are found in Alaska, western Canada, and the United States west of the Plains, and extend a short distance down into 36 1t?ift> (mountain £0eep Mexico. Most flocks in the Sierra and the Rocky Mountains live above the timber-line and at an altitude of twelve thousand feet. Winter quarters in these high stamping-grounds appear to be chosen in localities where the high winds prevent a deep accumulation of snow. This snow-removal decreases the danger of becoming snowbound and usually enables the sheep to obtain food. Their warm, thick under covering of fine wool protects them from the coldest blasts. During storms the sheep commonly huddle together to the leeward of a cliff. Sometimes they stand thus for days and are completely drifted over. At the close of the storm the stronger ones lead and buck their way out through the snow. Occasionally a few weak ones perish, and oc casionally, too, a mountain lion appears while the flock is almost helpless in the snow. Excursions from their mountain-top homes are occasionally made into the lowlands. In the spring they go down early for green stuff, which comes first to the lowlands. They go to salt licks, for a ramble, for a change of food, and for 37 (Rocfig (mountain TtfonberCano the fun of it. The duration of these excursions may be a few hours or several days. Most of the time the full-grown rams form one flock; the ewes and youngsters flock by themselves. Severe storms or harassing enemies may briefly unite these flocks. One hundred and forty is the largest flock I ever counted. This was in June, on Specimen Mountain, Colo rado; and the sheep had apparently assembled for the purpose of licking salty, alkaline earth near the top of this mountain. Wild sheep ap pear to have an insatiable craving for salt and will travel a day's journey to obtain it. Occa sionally they will cross a high, broken moun tain-range and repeatedly expose themselves to danger, in order to visit a salt lick. The young lambs, one or two at a birth, are usually born about the first of May in the alpine heights above timber-line. What a wildly royal and romantic birthplace! The strange world spreading far below and far away; crags, snowdrifts, brilliant flowers, — a hanging wild garden, with the ptarmigan and the rosy finches for companions! The mother has sole 38 D)itb (mountain ^0eep care of the young; for several weeks she must guard them from hungry foxes, eagles, and lions. Once I saw an eagle swoop and strike a lamb. Though the lamb was knocked heels over head, the blow was not fatal. The eagle wheeled to strike again, but the mother leaped up and shielded the wounded lamb. Eaglets are oc casionally fed on young lambs, as skulls near eagle's nests in the cliffs bear evidence. A number of ewes and lambs one day came close to my hiding-place. One mother had two children; four others had one each. An active Iamb had a merry time with his mother, butting her from every angle, rearing up on his hind legs and striking with his head, and occasionally leaping entirely over her. While she lay in dreamy indifference, he practiced long jumps over her, occasionally stopping to have a fierce fight with an imaginary rival. Later he was joined by another lamb, and they proceeded to race and romp all over a cliff, while the mothers looked on with satisfaction. Presently they all lay down, and a number of magpies, apparently hunting insects, walked over them. 39 (gocfig (mountain TUonberCanb In one of the side canons on the Colorado in Arizona, I was for a number of days close to a flock of wild sheep which evidently had never before seen man. On their first view of me they showed marked curiosity, which they satisfied by approaching closely, two or three touching me with their noses. Several times I walked among the flock with no excitement on their part. I was without either camera or gun. The day I broke camp and moved on, one of the ewes followed me for more than an hour. They become intensely alert and wild when hunted ; but in localities where they are not shot at they quickly become semi-domestic, often feeding near homes of friendly people. During the winter sheep frequently come from the heights to feed near my cabin. One day, after a number had licked salt with my pony, a ram which appeared as old as the hills walked boldly by my cabin within a few feet of it, head proudly up. After long acquaintance and many attempts I took his photograph at five feet and finally was allowed to feel of his great horns! A few years ago near my cabin a ram lost his 40 TJ?iCb (mountain £0eep life in a barbed-wire fence. He and a number of other rams had fed, then climbed to the top of a small crag by the roadside. While they were there, a man on horseback came along. Indif ferently they watched him approach ; but when he stopped to take a picture all but one fled in alarm, easily leaping a shoulder-high fence. After a minute the remaining ram became ex cited, dashed off to follow the others, and ran into the fence. He was hurled backward and one of his curved horns hooked over a wire. Finding himself caught, he surged desperately to tear himself free. In doing this a barb severed the jugular vein. He fell and freed his horn from the wire in falling. Rising, he ran for the crag from which he had just fled, with his blood escaping in great gushes. As he was gaining the top of the crag he rolled over dead. A flock which is often divided into two, one of ewes and one of rams, lives on the summit of Battle Mountain, at an altitude of twelve thou sand feet, about four miles from my cabin. I have sometimes followed them when they were rambling. About the middle of one Septem- 4i (goc% (Wiounfoin TUonberfonb ber this flock united and moved off to the south. I made haste to climb to the top of Mt. Meeker so as to command most of their move ments. I had been watching for several hours without even a glimpse of them. Rising to move away, I surprised them as they lay at rest near-by, a little below the summit; and I also surprised a lion that evidently was sneak ing up on them. This was close to the altitude of fourteen thousand feet. The mountain lion is the game-hog of the heights and is a persistent and insidious foe of sheep. He kills both old and young, and usually makes a capture by sneaking up on his victim. Sometimes for hours he lies in wait by a sheep trail. The day following the surprise on Mt. Meeker, this flock appeared at timber-line about three miles to the southeast. Here some hunters fired on it. As it fled past me, I counted, and one of the twenty-eight was missing. The flock spent most of the next day about Chasm Lake, just under the northern crags of Meeker. Before night it was back at its old stamping- ground on Battle Mountain. Early the following 42 7Wb (mountain ^fleep morning the big ram led the way slowly to the west on the northern slope of Long's Peak, a little above timber-line. During the morning a grizzly came lumber ing up the slope, and as I thought he would probably intercept the sheep, I awaited the next scene with intense interest. The bear showed no interest in the sheep, which, in turn, were not alarmed by his approach. Within a few yards of the flock he concluded to dig out a fat woodchuck. The sheep, full of curiosity, crowded near to watch this performance, — evidently too near to suit Mr. Grizzly, who presently caused a lively scattering with a Woof! and a charge. The bear returned to his digging, and the sheep proceeded quietly on their way. The flock went down into Glacier Gorge, then out on the opposite side, climbing to the summit of the Continental Divide. The fol lowing day another flock united with it; and just at nightfall another, composed entirely of ewes and lambs, was seen approaching. At day light the following morning the Battle Moun- 43 (goc% Qftounfam ItJonoetf anb tain flock was by itself and the other flocks nowhere in sight. During the day my flock traveled four or five miles to the north, then, doubling back, descended Flat-Top Mountain, and at sundown, after a day's trip of about twenty miles and a descent from twelve thou sand feet to eight thousand, arrived at the Mary Lake salt lick in Estes Park. Before noon the following day this flock was on the Crags, about three miles south of the lake and at an altitude of eleven thousand feet. Near the Crags I saw a fight between one of the rams of this flock and one that ranged about the Crags. The start of this was a lively push ing contest, head to head. At each break there was a quick attempt to strike each other with their horns, which was followed by goat-like rearing and sparring. As they reared and struck, or struck while on their hind legs, the aim was to hit the other's nose with head or horn. Both flocks paused, and most of the sheep intently watched the contest. Suddenly the contestants broke away, and each rushed back a few yards, then wheeled 44 TXKCb (mountain £0eep with a fine cutting angle and came at the other full tilt. There was a smashing head-on col lision, and each was thrown upward and almost back on his haunches by the force of the im pact. Instantly they wheeled and came to gether in a flying butt. A number of times both walked back over the stretch over which they rushed together. It was a contest between battering rams on legs. Occasionally one was knocked to his knees or was flung headlong. The circular arena over which they fought was not more than twenty-five feet in diameter. In the final head-on butt the ram of the Crags was knocked end over end; then he arose and trotted away down the slope, while the victor, erect and motionless as a statue, stared after him. Both were covered with blood and dirt. During the day the flock returned to Battle Mountain. The following day this flock separated into two flocks, the youngsters and ewes in one and the old rams in the other. At mating-time, early in October, the flocks united, and the rams had it out among themselves. There were repeated 45 (Kocfig (fltountiun Tt?onbet£anb fights; sometimes two contests were in progress at once. In the end a few rams were driven off without mates, while three or four rams each led off from one to five ewes. Over the greater part of their range the wild mountain sheep are threatened with extermina tion. They are shot for sport and for their flesh, and are relentlessly hunted for their horns. But the mountain sheep are a valuable asset to our country. They are picturesque and an interesting part of the scenery, an inspiration to every one who sees them. Says Mary Austin : — " But the wild sheep from the battered rocks, Sure foot and fleet of limb, Gets up to see the stars go by Along the mountain rim." Fortunate is the locality that perpetuates its mountain sheep. These courageous climbers add much to the ancient mountains and snowy peaks; the arctic wild gardens and the crags would not be the same for us if these moun taineers were to vanish forever from the heights. C0e fomt ^frontier Z§t §OXtBt $xoxttkt ^?^IMBER-LINE in the high mountains of the V^ West wakes up the most indifferent visi tor. The uppermost limit of tree-growth shows nature in strange, picturesque forms, and is so graphic and impressive that all classes of visitors pause to look in silent wonder. This is the forest frontier. It appears as old as the hills and as fixed and unchanging as they; but, like every frontier, that of the forest is aggressive, is ever struggling to advance. To-day this bold and definite line is the forest's Far North, its farthest reach up the heights; but this simply marks where the forest is, and not where it was or where it is striving to be. Here is the line of battle be tween the woods and the weather. The ele ments are insistent with "thus far and no farther," but the trees do not heed, and the relentless elements batter and defy them in a never-ending battle along the timber-line. 49 (gocfy; (mountain TtJonbetf anb From a commanding promontory the forest- edge appears like a great shore-line, as it sweeps away for miles along the steep and uneven sides of the mountains. For the most part it follows the contour line; here it goes far out round a peninsula-like headland, there it sweeps away to fold back into cove or canon and form a forested bay. In Colorado and California this forest-line on the mountains is at an altitude of between eleven and twelve thousand feet. Downward from this line a heavy robe of dark forest drapes the mountains; above it the tree less heights rise cool and apparently barren, piled with old and eroded snowdrifts amid silent moor lands and rocky terraces. The trees of timber-line are stunted by cold, crushed by snow, and distorted by prolonged and terrific winds. Many stretches appear like growths of coarse bushes and uncouth vines. They maintain a perpetual battle, and, though crippled, bent, dwarfed, and deformed, they are stocky and strong old warriors, determined, no weaklings, no cowards. They are crowded together and tangled, presenting a united front. 5o C0e §omt $ronftetr Few trees in this forest-front rise to a greater height than twelve feet. The average height is about eight feet, but the length of some of the prostrate ones is not far from the normal height. Wind and other hard conditions give a few trees the uncouth shapes of prehistoric animals. I measured a vine-like ichthyosaurus that was crawling to leeward, flat upon the earth. It was sixty-seven feet long, and close to the roots its body was thirty-eight inches in diameter. One cone-shaped spruce had a base diameter of four feet and came to a point a few inches less than four feet above the earth. Here and there a tough, tall tree manages to stand erect. The high wind either prevents growing or trims off all limbs that do not point to lee ward. Some appear as though molded and pressed into shape. A profile of others, with long, streaming-bannered limbs, gives a hopeful view, for they present an unconquerable and conscious appearance, like tattered pennants or torn, triumphant battle-flags of the victori ous forest! The forest is incessantly aggressive and 5i (Jlocfig (fltounfain TUonberfonb eternally vigilant to hold its territory and to advance. Winds are its most terrible and effec tive foe. To them is due its weird and pic turesque front. Occasionally they rage for days without cessation, blowing constantly from the same quarter and at times with the rending and crushing velocity of more than one hundred miles an hour. These terrific winds frequently flay the trees with cutting blasts of sand. At times the wind rolls down the steeps with the crushing, flattening force of a tidal wave. Many places have the appearance of having been gone over by a terrible harrow or an enormous roller. In some localities all the trees, except the few protected by rocky ledges or closely braced by their encircling fellows, are crippled or over thrown. Although I have visited timber-line in a num ber of States, most of my studies have been made on the eastern slope of the Continental Divide in Colorado. This ragged edge, with its ups and downs and curves, I have eagerly fol lowed for hundreds of miles. Exploring this during every month of the year, I have had 52 THE WAY OF THE WIND AT TIMBER-LINE C0e §ottBt ftontkx great days and nights along the timber-line. It was ever good to be with these trees in the clear air, up close to the wide and silent sky. Ad venturers they appeared, strangely wrapped and enveloped in the shifting fog of low-drifting clouds. In the twilight they were always groups and forms of friendly figures, while by moon light they were just a romantic camp of fra ternal explorers. Many a camp-fire I have had in the alpine outskirts of the forest. I remember especially one night, when I camped alone where pioneer trees, rusty cliffs, a wild lake-shore, and a sub dued, far-off waterfall furnished sights and sounds as wild as though man had not yet ap peared on earth. This night, for a time, a cave man directed my imagination, and it ran riot in primeval fields. After indulging these pre historic visions, I made a great camp-fire with a monumental pile of tree-trunks and limbs on the shore of the lake, close to the cliff. These slow-grown woods were full of pitch, and the fire was of such blazing proportions that it would have caused consternation anywhere in 53 (goc% QUounfom TX?onbetr£anb Europe. The leaping, eager flames threw waver ing lights across the lake on the steeply rising heights beyond. These brought the alarm cry of a coyote, with many an answer and echo, and the mocking laughter of a fox. Even these wild voices in the primeval night were neither so strange nor so eloquent as the storm-made and resolute tree-forms that rose, peered, and vanished where my firelight fell and changed. At most timber-lines the high winds always blow from one direction. On the eastern slope of the Colorado divide they are westerly, down the mountain. Many of the trees possess a long vertical fringe of limbs to leeward, being limb less and barkless to storm ward. Each might serve as an impressive symbolic statue of a windstorm. Permanently their limbs stream to leeward together, with fixed bends and dis tortions as though changed to metal in the height of a storm. Whenever a tree dies and remains standing, the sand-blasts speedily erode and carve its un evenly resistant wood into a totem pole which 54 Z$t fouBt ^frontier bears many strange embossed pictographs. In time these trees are entirely worn away by the violence of wind-blown ice-pellets and the gnawings of the sand-toothed gales. Novel effects are here and there seen in long hedges of wind-trimmed trees. These are aligned by the wind. They precisely parallel the wind-current and have grown to leeward from the shelter of a boulder or other wind break. Apparently an adventurous tree makes a successful stand behind the boulder; then its seeds or those of other trees proceed to form a crowding line to the leeward in the shelter thus afforded. Some of these hedges are a few hun dred feet in length; rarely are they more than a few feet high or wide. At the front the sand blasts trim this hedge to the height and width of the wind-break. Though there may be in some a slight, gradual increase in height from the front toward the rear, the wind trims off adventurous twigs on the side-lines and keeps the width almost uniform throughout. During the wildest of winds I sometimes deliberately spent a day or a night in the most 55 (RocBp (mountain Tftonberfanb exposed places at timber-line, protected in an elkskin sleeping-bag. Wildly, grandly, the surging gusts boomed, ripped, roared, and ex ploded, as they struck or swept on. The ex perience was somewhat like lying in a diver's dress on a beach during a storm. At times I was struck almost breathless by an airy breaker, or tumbled and kicked indifferently about by the unbelievable violence of the wind. At other times I was dashed with sand and vigorously pelted with sticks and gravel. This was always at some distance from tree, boulder, or ledge, for I took no risks of being tossed against trees or rocks. Many times, how ever, I have lain securely anchored and shielded beneath matted tree-growths, where in safety I heard the tempestuous booms and the wildest of rocket-like swishes of the impassioned and invisible ocean of air. The general sound- effect was a prolonged roar, with an interplay of rippings and tumultuous cheerings. There were explosions and silences. There were hours of Niagara. In the midst of these distant roar ings the fearful approach of an advancing gale 56 C0e Jbresf frontier could be heard before the unseen breaker rolled down on me from the heights. The most marked result of cold and snow is the extreme shortness of the growing-season which they allow the trees. Many inclined trees are broken off by snow, while others are prostrated. Though the trees are flattened upon the earth with a heavy load for months, the snow cover affords the trees much protec tion, from both the wracking violence of the winds and their devitalizing dryness. I know of a few instances of the winter snows piling so deeply that the covered trees were not un covered by the warmth of the following sum mer. The trees suspended in this enforced hibernating sleep lost a summer's fun and failed to envelop themselves in the telltale ring of annual growth. Snow and wind combined produce acres of closely matted growth that nowhere rises more than three feet above the earth. This growth is kept well groomed by the gale-flung sand, which clips persistent twigs and keeps it closely trimmed into an enormous bristle brush. In 57 (goc% Qltounfom Tftonbetfanb places the surface of this will support a pedes trian, but commonly it is too weak for this; and, as John Muir says, in getting through, over, under, or across growths of this kind, one loses all of his temper and most of his clothing ! Timber-line is largely determined by cli matic limitations, by temperature and mois ture. In the Rocky Mountains the dry winds are more deadly, and therefore more deter mining, than the high winds. During droughty winters these dry winds absorb the vital juices of hundreds of timber-line trees, whose withered standing skeletons frequently testify to the widespread depredations of this dry blight. A permanent advance, too, is made from time to time. Here and there is a grove, a permanent settlement ahead of and above the main ranks. In advance of these are a few lone trees, heroes scouting in the lead. In moist, sheltered places are seedlings and promising young trees grow ing up in front of the battle-scarred old guard. Advances on dry, wind-swept ridges are more difficult and much less frequent; on a few dry ridges these trees have met with a repulse and 58 C0e fore** $rontfer in some places have lost a little territory, but along most of its front the timber-line is slowly advancing into the heights. With this environment it would be natural for these trees to evolve more hardiness than the present trees have. This would mean trees better fitted to contend with, and more likely to triumph over, the harsh conditions. Evolu tionary development is the triumphing factor at the timber-line. The highest timber-line in the world is prob ably on Mount Orizaba, Mexico. Frank M. Chapman says that there are short-leaved pines (Pinus Montezuma) from thirty to forty feet high, on the southern exposure of this peak at an altitude of about 13,800 feet. In Switzer land, along the steep and snowy Alps, it is sixty- four hundred; on Mt. Washington, about forty- five hundred feet. In the mountains of Colorado and California it is of approximately equal alti tude, between eleven and twelve thousand feet. Advancing northward from California along the timber-line, one enters regions of heavy snow fall as well as of restricting latitude. Combined, 59 (gocGp (fltounfom Tt7onbet£anb these speedily lower the altitude of timber-line, until on Mt. Rainier it is below eight thousand feet. There is a noticeable dwarfing of the forest as one approaches the Land of the Midnight Sun, and in its more northerly reaches it comes down to sea-level to form the Land of Little Sticks. It frays out at its Farthest North just within the Arctic Circle. Most of the Arctic Ocean's icy waves break on treeless shores. Everywhere at timber-line the temperature is low, and on Long's Peak the daily average is two degrees below the freezing-point. At timber-line snow may fall any day of the year, and wintry conditions annually prevail from nine to ten months. The hardy trees which maintain this line have adjusted themselves to the extremely short growing-season, and now and then mature and scatter fertile seeds. The trees that do heroic service on all latitudinal and altitudinal timber-lines of the earth are mem bers of the pine, spruce, fir, birch, willow, and aspen families. At timber-line on the Rocky Mountains there are three members each from the deciduous trees and the evergreens. These 60 C0e §oxtBt ;