Albert Edward Cobbins, Englishman,
erstwhile sailor, adventurer and gentleman, was the keeper
of Timberline Cabin, and the loneliest man in the Rockies.
It was his duty to house overnight climbers bound for the
Peak, sunrise parties and sunset parties, all too few now in
the chill October season-end. Fanny was his first visitor
in three days. He was pathetically glad to see her.
"I'll have tea for you," he said, "in a jiffy. And I baked
a pan of French rolls ten minutes ago. I had a feeling."
A magnificent specimen of a man, over six feet tall slim,
broad-shouldered, long-headed, and scrubbed-looking as only
an Englishman can be, there was something almost pathetic in
the sight of him bustling about the rickety little kitchen
stove.
"To-morrow," said Fanny, over her tea, "I'm going to get an
early start, reach here by noon, and go on to Boulder Field
and maybe Keyhole."
"Better not, Miss. Not in October, when there's likely to
be a snowstorm up there in a minute's notice."
"You'd come and find me, wouldn't you? They always do, in
the books.
Pages:
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526