At the bottom of the valley, we could scarcely see a dozen yards in any direction.

We were passing along meadows, like those of New England, with brakes, sunflowers, and huckleberries; here and there were little fields of wheat or peas.

The fog was too dense for us to know whether we lost fine scenery.

We saw nothing of the little villages through which we passed.

On and on we plunged along the trail, until it began an ascent of a ridge, almost like a knife-edge, with steep slopes on both sides.