fell in almost too well with our anticipations that the air is an even more elaborate trap to catch the sunbeams than had been surmised, and that this effect of selective absorption and radiation was intimately connected with that change of the primal energies and primal color of the sun which we had climbed toward it to study.
On the fourth day, after break-neck ascents and descents, we finally ascended by a ravine, down which leaped a cataract, till, at nightfall, we reached our upper camp, which was pitched by a little lake, one of the sources of the waterfall, at a height of about twelve thousand feet, but where we seemed in the bottom of a valley, nearly surrounded as we were by an amphitheatre of rocky walls which rose perpendicularly to the height of Gibraltar from the sea, and cut off all view of the desert below or even of the peak above us.
The air was wonderfully clear, so that the sun set in a yellow rather than an orange sky, which was reflected in the little ice-rimmed lakes and from occasional snow-fields on the distant waste of lonely mountain-summits on the west.
The mule-train sent off before by another route had not arrived when we got to the mountain-camp, and we realized that we were far from the appliances of civilization by our inability to learn about our chief apparatus, for here, without post or telegraph, we were as completely cut off from all knowledge of what might be going on with it in the next mountain ravine as a ship at sea is of the fate of a vessel that sailed before from the same port. During the enforced idleness we ascended the peak nearly three thousand feet above us, with our lighter apparatus, leaving the question of the ultimate use of the heavy ones to be settled later. There seemed little prospect of carrying it up, as we climbed where the granite walls had been split by the earthquakes, letting a stream of great rocks, like a stone river, flow down through the interstices by which we ascended, and, in fact, the heavier apparatus was not carried above the mountain-camp.
The view from the very summit was over numberless peaks on the west to an horizon fifty miles away, of unknown mountain-tops, for, with the exception of the vast ridge of Mount Tyndall, and one or two less conspicuous ones, these summits are not known to fame, and, wonderful as the view may be, all the charm of association with human interest which we find in the mountain landscape of older lands is here lacking.
It was impossible not to be impressed with the savage solitude of this desert of the upper air, and our remoteness from man and his works, but I turned to the study of the special things connected with my mission. Down far below the air seemed filled with reddish dust that looked like an ocean. This dust is really present everywhere (I have found it in the clear air of Etna), and, though we do not realize its presence in looking up through it, to one who looks down on it the dwellers on the earth seem indeed like creatures at the bottom of a
