On their way up the valley they had to wade their little stream once more, but at this hour of the day it was not very wide or deep, although it certainly was very cold.
“Me know one slide,” said Leo, after a time, “very old slide, not steep. Plenty gopher on that slide. Dig in dirt. Grizzlum he like eat gopher. Sometam he come there and dig gopher most all day. Maybe-so ketch ’um grizzlum there.”
“That’s mighty well reasoned, Leo,” said Uncle Dick, approvingly. “You see, boys, why Leo is such a successful grizzly-hunter—he is a good observer, and he knows the habits of animals, and why animals have such or such habits. To be a good hunter you’ve got to be a good student.”
When at last they had reached the upper end of the flat valley in which the many branches of their little creek wandered tricklingly, Leo pulled up alongside a dead log and signified that they would stop there for a time while observing the slides on each side of the valley. From this point they had an excellent view of a great mountain series opening out beyond. And as they were commenting on the beauty of this prospect there came to them one of the experiences of mountains which not very many men have known.
They heard a heavy, rumbling sound, yet faint, like thunder in the distance. Then slowly they saw a spot on one side of the valley, some four or five miles distant, grow misty and white, as though a heavy cloud were forming.
“Look yonder!” exclaimed Uncle Dick. “That’s a snow-slide, boys, and lucky enough we are that we’re not under it. It’s a big one, too.”
They sat silent, listening to the dull voice of the avalanche. The great mass of snow which lay on the steep mountainside had begun to loosen at the rim-rock as the snow melted and began to trickle under the edges. Gradually the surface of the ground, moistened under the snow this way, began to offer less and less hold to the snow which was piled above it. Little by little the upper region of the snow-field began to drop and settle down, growing heavier and heavier on the supporting snow beneath, until finally, under the increasing weight above, it had given way along the whole surface of the mountain, a half-mile or more in extent.
It chanced that at the foot of the slide—that is to say, at the edge of the valley—there was a tall cliff, or rock wall, and over this precipice all the mass of snow now was pouring, driven with such mighty force against this wall of rock at its foot that it broke into fine particles more like mist than snow. In a vast cascade it poured down and out over the valley, making one of the most wonderful spectacles a man could see anywhere in the mountains.
“There are rocks and trees going down in that cloud of snow, very likely,” said Uncle Dick, “but you can’t see them. That’s how Leo gets his bear-hunting country made for him—eh, Leo?”