The morning journal-courier., 1908-01-15
LOST ON MOUNTAIN
How Memory Faded and Failed to be Helpful When
 Needed.
QUEER TRICK OF THE MIND
Encouragement Followed by Exceed ing Joy in the Welcome
 Morning.

| There's a phase or lobe of the hu- man mind that. whether you be sleep. ing or waking, thinking or not think | ing never ceases entirely to keep ac- count of time. Any expert psychologist will tell you this, and-theoreticallv- practice, I've met fellows on a yacht | Ing cruise or off in the mountains on camping trip. who, through some circumstance like an all-night stand up in the rain or forced march be- | fore dawn, had completely lost count and knew no more about what day of | the week it was than blind mole, and cared as little.
 In this wise we two were returning from glorious midwinter prowl with neither cares nor watches nor any reckoning whatever save that we knew there were provisions enough in our packs to carry us into civilization that afternoon-and no more. Without guns or fishing gear, or in fact any ob- iect more than the mere adventure of it, we had been exploring that ragged wilderness of mountains which lies back of what the old Franciscans nam ed San Buena Ventura--four, five, even six thousand feet high from the sea. looking very- soft and inviting from a distance with the blue haze on it, but very rugged and oyergrown when you come to traverse 1t,
 All morning we had been clinging to frozen lodges in the teeth of a bowling northwestern. The surf lined the coast with white, the sand storms raced over the distant plains, the sun shone bright, the snow whirled, the stunted trees screamed in the gale all at the same time. The wildness and grandeur of it fascinated us, and we fingered too long.
 Then We planned a short cut, forget ting how easily a stream can drop over 40-foot ledge, and how difficult 1t Is for a man to follow. But we followed, wet from wading. bleeding from thorns, weary till our knees sagged, and gained three miles in four hours, Then, in something like desperation, we planned over again and sought our charts-for the country was strange to us. To our dismay the charts were gone, torn away by the underbrush And our memory of them seemed to fade and fade, and the wilderness seemed to rise more forbidding and bewildering about us as we stood. But We must go one. We followed the stream till it became foaming river in gorge, and left us clingng to smooth rocks with our finger nails. Then we tried the underbrush and found it impossible. Lastly we climb d 500 feet of broken cliff with faint nope that we might see way out from the top. Our hopes rose with us Yes, We should see the trail to civilization from the crest. We began to remember that it was on the map.
 We gained the crest, we looked around over grand, silent, uptilted country, but in the whole expanse of 1t vas not one vestige of man. A broad 'hadow passed swiftly over us with lurtling noise, and we looked up to see large black buzzard tilting and sweeping in the breeze and eyeing us ritically. Then came fear, the most dangerous part of being lost-fear nat makes men forget the sun rises the east, and sets in the west, and hat, water runs down hill, and sets hem walking in circles. Not that we ave into it. No time for that. We Nl
 rail. We upbraided our memories for playing us tricks, and with one final resolution, crashed on through the haparral, taking turns to push each ,ther along. Our clothes went to rib- lons. we left tufts of hair on the twigs, ve bled good deal across the cheeks,
 ut we finally reached little knoll
 nd looked over. It was only a faint mark, a mere thread running across a pare spot but never a more welcome ight, Never a more exultant shout, lor such sturdy slaps on the shoulders s we gave each other We had found the trail. Who feared the sight of black buzzards any more? Who said his wasn't a glorious expedition?
 But the day was nearly gone now. Night overlook us down in the roar ng canons and the river leaped white
 md impossible in the dark; so, eating ur last crumb of chocolate, we made amp. But surely the trail would lead
 s out when light came with the mor- ow. The fire blazed, the river roared, he black cliffs echoed, the flame lit apestry of the leaves arched over us, md we slept.
 The morning finally came, clothed in beautiful, faint-blue light, with old Jupiter floating in it, blazing white, se- en as though he had never been lost all the great space he traversed. We egan to see encouraging signs as we ,roceeded-a fence, cattle on the
 eights, open meadows. faint wheel
 finally the welcome smoke of habitation. We were just speculating what the first man we met would be like, when he appeared galloping to- ward us on a giant chestnut horse, Mexican bridle jingling, Mexican sad de squeaking-a huge, florid, jolly fel- low.
 'Howdy, boysl" he shouted. Where you goin' So early in the morning? How'd you come? What! Out all night Losti Say, did you have any grub? Well, you'd oughter had better sense than that Hungry enough 10 eat a raw dog, I'll bet. Come, we'll go back to the cabin and fix you up. 1 was lost myself once in Arizona for four days"
 That clinched it. The very sight of i'm was good; but if he had been lost oo, that made him our friend for life. Ve followed him back to the source f the welcome smoke and he went to -9rk over a three-legged old stove in
 ay that assured us he really had
 lost and that we should lack noth-
 hen it was all over we were oblie-