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46 MIDDLE PARK.

 

the surveyor’s line, was easily overcome. Every elbow
where substantial cribbing marked a gulch coming
down, was turned with the skill for which Updike is
famous, and in a little while we were at the summit of
the Pass, 500 feet below timber line, and 10,680 feet
above the sea. Some of our party, who had never been
there before, looked around in surprise: “This the
backbone of the continent! This the great barrier that
seemed to say, ‘thus far but no further shalt thou go!’”
Aye—this is the gap that nature left expressly for this
road, when she piled old Mt. Russell up there a thou-
sand feet higher on the left, and rounded the grassy
slopes of Mt. Flora two thousand feet above us on the
right. Here we find a little snow in the roadway.
Downward, carefully at first, but at a lively rate by-
and-by, the driver allowed the stage to wheel its way
on the Pacific Slope. A cutter would have made better
time, perhaps, as we found several inches of snow all
the way down to the edge of the timber, but eleven
miles in two hours was good enough for an experimen-
tal trip. We have heretofore spoken of the magnificent
timber that studs this slope, of the road-bed, and of the
bridges; and it is not necessary to add more than to
say it reflects credit upon its builders—the laborers, the
bosses, and the: men who furnished the capital, every
dollar of which was raised in Clear Creek county. Not
the most trivial accident occurred during the trip; so
safely and speedily did we travel that the mere un-

 

hooking of a trace was hailed as an exciting break in
the monotony. Crossing Vasques Fork we entered

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