Beyond these foothills rose the snow-capped peaks of the Rockies.

He shaved himself, cut his hair, and went on.

That night he camped only when he could drive his canoe no farther.

The waterway had narrowed to a creek, and he was among the first green shoulders of the hills when he stopped.

With another dawn he concealed his canoe in a sheltered place and went on with his pack.
For a week he picked his way slowly westward.