accident of fate, but the result of careful attention to a prearranged
design that we should not fail to witness a marvelous display never
surpassed by lavish Nature. The day outside was one of cloudless
summer sunshine.

[Illustration: Blondy's Throne Room. Page 50.]

[Illustration: Foot of Waterfall. Page 50.]

Our eyes having grown accustomed to the dim light of candles in passages
where absolute darkness, unrelieved by the stars of midnight, always
reigns, the great Auditorium appeared before us softly flooded with
daylight diffused from a broad white beam slanting down in long straight
lines from the entrance as from a rift in heavy clouds; only this rift
displayed around its edges a brilliant border of vegetation that the
rough rocks cherish with tender care.

As we stood lost in almost speechless admiration, and without the
slightest warning of treasure yet in store, the white beam was stabbed
by a narrow, gleaming shaft of yellow sunlight. The glorious, radiant
beauty of the picture presented is utterly indescribable, but it was of
short duration, and in a few seconds the golden blade was withdrawn as
suddenly as it had appeared.

If the genius of Elkins had been granted the privilege we enjoyed, the
artist-world of Europe that graciously yielded the highest honor to his
"Sunbeam on Mount Shasta," would have knelt in rapturous humility.
Speaking of his great work, as we stood before it only a few months
before his death, Mr. Elkins said quietly: "It is no great achievement;
I simply painted it exactly as it looked. Anyone could do the same."