"But you're not badly hurt, I hope, Frank?" burst out the other, a new anxiety discernible in his quavering voice.
"Nothing to cripple me—a few bruises, and such things. How about you?"
"Not saying a word, I'm so tickled to be alive. The bumps I got were just gentle taps to what I might have picked up, if only we hadn't been just on the outer edge of the slide."
When once more they came in contact the grateful boys shook hands in mutual congratulation.
"As near a miracle as ever I expect to run across, that's right," Lanky asserted. "And, Frank, the wind storm that started all this business going has petered out."
It was indeed a fact, for no longer did the boys catch that roaring series of noises as the storm rushed over the mountains. The black clouds hid the heavens, however, and made such a pall that it was almost dark around them.
"Let's try to have a look-in," suggested the once-more eager Lanky. "We'll see what sort of new stamping ground we've lit on after our run down on the avalanche."
All about them great masses of rock and trees that had come down from above, were piled up in confused heaps, with strange looking gullies lying between that Lanky started to call coulees, after the Western way.
"One thing's sure," said Frank, after they had climbed around for a short time, with more or less difficulty; "we're not going to get back to camp this night. As darkness comes on it would be foolish for us to keep moving about in this wilderness of upturned things."