The sky had been obscured since the morning by thin mists and vapors, but now vast piles of clouds were gathered together in the west.  They rose to a great height above the horizon, and looking up toward them I distinguished one mass darker than the rest and of a peculiar conical form.  I happened to look again and still could see it as before.  At some moments it was dimly seen, at others its outline was sharp and distinct; but while the clouds around it were shifting, changing, and dissolving away, it still towered aloft in the midst of them, fixed and immovable.  It must, thought I, be the summit of a mountain, and yet its heights staggered me.  My conclusion was right, however.  It was Long’s Peak, once believed to be one of the highest of the Rocky Mountain chain, though more recent discoveries have proved the contrary.  The thickening gloom soon hid it from view and we never saw it again, for on the following day and for some time after, the air was so full of mist that the view of distant objects was entirely intercepted.

It grew very late.  Turning from our direct course we made for the river at its nearest point, though in the utter darkness it was not easy to direct our way with much precision.  Raymond rode on one side and Henry on the other.  We could hear each of them shouting that he had come upon a deep ravine.  We steered at random between Scylla and Charybdis, and soon after became, as it seemed, inextricably involved with deep chasms all around us, while the darkness was such that we could not see a rod in any direction.  We partially extricated ourselves by scrambling, cart and all, through a shallow ravine.  We came next to a steep descent down which we plunged without well knowing what was at the bottom.  There was a great crackling of sticks and dry twigs.  Over our heads were certain large shadowy objects, and in front something like the faint gleaming of a dark sheet of water.  Raymond ran his horse against a tree; Henry alighted, and feeling on the ground declared that there was grass enough for the horses.  Before taking off his saddle each man led his own horses down to the water in the best way he could.  Then picketing two or three of the evil-disposed we turned the rest loose and lay down among the dry sticks to sleep.  In the morning we found ourselves close to the South Fork of the Platte on a spot surrounded by bushes and rank grass.  Compensating ourselves with a hearty breakfast for the ill fare of the previous night, we set forward again on our journey.  When only two or three rods from the camp I saw Shaw stop his mule, level his gun, and after a long aim fire at some object in the grass.  Delorier next jumped forward and began to dance about, belaboring the unseen enemy with a whip.  Then he stooped down and drew out of the grass by the neck an enormous rattlesnake, with his head completely shattered by Shaw’s bullet.  As Delorier held him out at arm’s length with an exulting grin his tail, which still