roused from a state of half-consciousness, we called each other by
name in a frightened, startled way, each fearing the other might be
benumbed or dead. The ordinary sensations of cold give but a faint
conception of that which comes on after hard climbing with want of
food and sleep in such exposure as this. Life is then seen to be a
fire, that now smoulders, now brightens, and may be easily quenched.
The weary hours wore away like dim half-forgotten years, so long and
eventful they seemed, though we did nothing but suffer. Still the
pain was not always of that bitter, intense kind that precludes
thought and takes away all capacity for enjoyment. A sort of dreamy
stupor came on at times in which we fancied we saw dry, resinous logs
suitable for campfires, just as after going days without food men
fancy they see bread.

Frozen, blistered, famished, benumbed, our bodies seemed lost to us at
times--all dead but the eyes. For the duller and fainter we became
the clearer was our vision, though only in momentary glimpses. Then,
after the sky cleared, we gazed at the stars, blessed immortals of
light, shining with marvelous brightness with long lance rays, near-
looking and new-looking, as if never seen before. Again they would
look familiar and remind us of stargazing at home. Oftentimes
imagination coming into play would present charming pictures of the
warm zone below, mingled with others near and far. Then the bitter
wind and the drift would break the blissful vision and dreary pains
cover us like clouds. "Are you suffering much?" Jerome would inquire
with pitiful faintness. "Yes," I would say, striving to keep my voice
brave, "frozen and burned; but never mind, Jerome, the night will wear
away at last, and tomorrow we go a-Maying, and what campfires we will
make, and what sunbaths we will take!"