place.  A spot sided by three bowlders away from under-brush was decided upon.  By the time the fire was built the wind was a gale sending the flames leaping in every direction—­up the rocks and up our arms as we broiled the bacon.  Breakfast was a failure, as far as comfort was concerned.  It was a relief when we finally tramped out the embers and resumed our journey.

The top of a long snow-drift was a previously chosen land-mark.  It was seven when we reached the top of it.  Some one came out on the Bay in a row-boat—­we were too high for recognition—­thought better of it and went back.  Towards the top we left the decomposed granite and underbrush behind, climbing the rocks in preference to the snow, where the choice was allowed us.  The wind howled and shrieked, and blew with a force great enough to destroy balance, while its icy touch brought the blood tingling to our cheeks.

    At last we reached the summit.  And oh! the joy of achievement.

All Rubicon ridge and its neighbors, as far as the eye could see, were white with snow; the lakes in the valley below were still frozen—­only one showing any blue.  Clouds came up rapidly from the west, rushed by to the Nevada side where they piled up in great cumulous heaps.  The apex of Pyramid was cloud-capped all day.  Shifting gusts drove the waters of Tahoe scurrying first this way, then that.  Where in the early morning every tree had viewed her image among the reflected tints of sunrise, at ten-thirty white-caps flashed and disappeared to flash in a different place among the everchanging eddies.  Cascade and Fallen Leaf Lakes presented a continuous procession of white-caps to the east, while Eagle lay black and sinister in the shadow of Maggie’s Peaks.

After lunch, the wind blowing too cold for comfort, we started home, straight down—­over snow, granite and underbrush—­till we hit the State Highway.  Here we found a sheltered place by a creek and talked over the day’s happenings.

Along the roadside we drew up a resolution on the satisfaction of the trip.  The girl who had been cold all day didn’t ever want to see snow again, but already the others were discussing a possible ascent from the Eagle Creek side—­so great is the lure of the high places.

CHAPTER XXII

AL-TAHOE

Al-Tahoe, four miles east of Tallac, is one of the newer, better and more fashionable and pretentious resorts recently established at the south end of the Lake.  Its projectors saw the increasing demand for summer residences on the Lake, and realizing to the full the superior advantages of this location, they divided their large holding into suitable villa and bungalow sites, and other lots, and readily disposed of a number of them to those who were ready to build.  To further the colonizing plans of these chosen and selected purchasers a fine, modern, well-equipped