A few minutes later they came to a turn in the road, and started down a dangerous descent of the bluff that bordered the valley of the desert.
The brake began to screech on the wheels, and the horses threw themselves almost on their haunches to hold back the heavy wagon, which, in spite of the fact that two wheels were almost locked, was sliding down the declivity at a dangerous speed.
“I’d oughter chained the wheels,” said Tanker Ike grimly, as he tried to force the brake lever forward another notch.
“Can’t you do it now?” asked Mr. Pierce.
“Nope!” spoke the driver between his clenched teeth. “We’ve got to go on.”
More and more rapidly the vehicle slid down the hill. The horses were slipping, but they managed to keep their feet, and the brake was more shrilly screeching on the wheels.
All at once, as they made a turn and came to yet a steeper part of the trail, there was a sudden chill to the air, and some white flecks, as if some one had scattered tiny feathers, swirled in front of those in the wagon.
“Snow!” exclaimed Tanker Ike. “I thought it was coming.”
A moment later there was a sharp squall, and the air was filled with white crystals, which came down so thick that it was impossible to see twenty feet ahead.