Neither of the boys had noticed the night before how deep the snow was; but to-day they could see that down here under the trees it was eight or ten inches deep, though perhaps in the open where it had a chance to melt or to blow off there was not so much.
As they went forward, Jack was more and more interested in the tracks. Down at the foot of a cañon wall in the valley he saw a series of tiny parallel dots in the snow, which he thought must have been made by a little striped squirrel, which had run out from the broken rock-fragments where he had his home, down nearly to the water's edge, and then, frightened by some sight or sound, had turned and hurried, with long bounds, back to his rocky home. Higher up on the hill, about every weed-stalk that showed above the surface of the snow were numbers of long parallel depressions, and scattered about on the snow were fragments of the seed-cases of the plants, and strips of the bark of the stem. Here the birds had been at work, and so hard pressed for food that they had visited almost every projecting plant.
There had been killing during the night; death had been abroad, travelling over the barren hills, and pushing his way among the thickly clustered pines. There had been battles and ambuscades, and stern unrelenting pursuits; fierce struggles; resistance, feeble and unavailing; despair, and, at last, yielding, when the hope of escape was lost. More than one life had gone out that night on the hillside. Here, close to the margin of a little brook, was a pile of bright blue feathers, telling its story of death, and near it in the light snow, long, light strokes, which told of some fierce bird, that, in the gray light of the morning, had crushed in his strong crooked talons a little blue-bird which was just beginning his journey toward the south. There were tracks of a fox winding about on the hillside, often quartering the ground like a well trained hunting dog. He had covered much ground, and had visited every spot that might give shelter to his prey. In one place Jack saw the tracks of a grouse, and those of a fox following them, then suddenly the tracks of the grouse were seen no more, the last two sunk deep in the snow, showing where the bird had sprung from the ground and had darted away among the snow-laden trees. A few feet from these, Jack could see where the fox had stopped when the bird took flight, and he could fancy how angrily the sly fellow gazed after it as he saw his wished-for breakfast disappear. A little further on the fox had been more lucky, and a hole dug in the snow and a tuft or two of bluish fur showed where the keen-nosed hunter had caught a mouse.
At the border of a grove of pines, Jack saw the impress of the great pads of the snowshoe rabbit, scarcely sinking into the light snow. For the most part, the rabbits kept close under the evergreens where the snow was less deep, and food most easily to be found; but if startled by fox or wolf, they could readily run over the drifts, where the heavier pursuer must sink into them, far behind.
As they climbed higher and higher, the trees grew larger, and now they began to see, through the valley and coming down from the higher hills on either side, the tracks of elk. The heavy snow-fall, warning these animals of the near approach of winter, had set them in motion down from the peaks, and everywhere trails were seen leading from the hillside into the valley. They saw none of the animals, for the footfalls of the pack-train clambering over the rocks, the sound of dead branches rattling against the packs, and the calls to the horses alarmed the elk at a distance, and they retreated to the timber, out of sight.
Presently the climbing seemed at an end for the present, and the valley became more open and nearly level. Not far ahead off to the southeast they could see a low pass in the mountains, which seemed likely to be the one they were trying to find. As they ascended, the stream continued to grow smaller, large branches, almost equal in size to the main brook kept coming into it, and often it was uncertain which was the main fork. Hugh gave no hint of what was passing in his mind, but pushed on, and the boys kept the animals close behind him.
In this broad level valley there were more elk tracks than ever. These, seen at a distance, were very pretty, often looking like two delicate chains laid side by side, and running for a long distance almost in a straight line. Sometimes the animals seemed to have wandered about, biting off the heads of the grass and weeds that stood above the snow; but always at last the tracks turned and kept on down the valley. In the middle of the great meadow stood an old pine stub, and a number of the tracks converged to this, and then went away from it in one path. It seemed that the elk, coming along, had gone to this stump, and rubbed against it, and then all followed the same trail going away.
As the afternoon advanced, the valley grew narrow again and they entered the timber, and soon afterward came on what was evidently a trail that had been travelled both by whites and Indians. Some of the trees were blazed with an axe, but many years ago, for the bark had partly grown over the old blazes; there were later marks where little three-cornered patches of the bark had been knocked off, showing where the hard corners of packs had struck against the trees. On one or two of the trees were seen little woolen threads, white and red, showing where some Indian's blanket had rubbed against the trunk and left a little sign, to remain there for years. At length, the trail again passed out of the timber into a narrow valley, and a sharp climb brought them to a place where water seemed to be flowing down hill both before and behind them. Hugh stopped and waved his hand and pointed ahead; and beyond they could see a valley, steep-walled and full of timber, stretching off toward the southeast.