After reaching the top I had descended a few hundred feet to a shelf of land where there was a little lake, when I saw a guide coming out of the woods on our trail from below.

I felt at once that he had bad news, and, sure enough, he handed me a telegram saying that the President's condition was much worse and that I must come to Buffalo immediately.

It was late in the afternoon, and darkness had fallen by the time I reached the clubhouse where we were staying.

It was some time afterwards before I could get a wagon to drive me out to the nearest railway station, North Creek, some forty or fifty miles distant.

The roads were the ordinary wilderness roads and the night was dark.