Peter loved the life, the outdoor days and tented nights, but his mind once made up to leave, his volatile spirit turned toward home.
"A couple of days more staving round in the snowdrifts and I'll be ready," he announced, and Joshua began to pack up.
The guide growled a little at the reluctance of his party to start.
"You men wait too long, and you'll be sorry," he warned. "This wind won't only let up for a little spell at a time,—mostly it'll blow like somethin' let loose! And if a big snow comes,—and it's likely to,—we'll be in a fix."
"Now, now, old man," began Shelby, "don't growl. We've been a pretty good sort, haven't we? We're going home, aren't we? Why croak at us?"
"That's all right, sir, but meantime this Northwest wind keeps up its force, and—well, it means business."
"All right, we'll get the better of its business deal," prophesied Peter, and he and Blair went off for a hike.
As they started, the sun shone clear, and though the temperature was below thirty, the two men strode along, happy with sheer physical joy of living.
"This is the life!" said Peter, flapping his arms, and watching his breath congeal in frosty clouds.
"Yes," Blair agreed, "to a certain point——"