Article March 30, 1968 Issue

Rough Road in the Rockies

[For children]

EILEEN G. MANSFIELD

Jim peered far ahead through the windshield of the car, trying to catch the first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains. His father had told him as they left the motel that morning that they would cross the Rockies during the day, and had talked about how high the mountains were, higher than any they'd known back in the state of New York. So Jim very much wanted to see them.

They had been driving all day. It had been four days now—Jim counted on his fingers—since they'd left home. He smiled at that word "home." They were on their way to a new home out in the Pacific Northwest. Jim sat back in a corner of the back seat, laid his head on an old pillow, and then yawned, closed his eyes, and fell asleep. There were no mountains in sight yet.

He awoke suddenly to find the car shaking and jiggling, and all around outside were big crags and boulders. "Are we in the Rockies?" he asked his father. "We sure are, Son, and it looks as if the road's pretty rocky, too."

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