After two hours’ hard work, Archie announced that they were ready to begin their journey. The Pike’s wife had cooked a supply of meat sufficient to last three or four days, and they had also been able to save from the wreck enough corn-meal and flour to make about half a bushel of “slap-jacks,” which had been baked before the fire on heated stones. Although the old man seemed to be very much interested in his work, he kept an eye on all that was going on, and when he saw that preparations for the start were being made, he packed his machine carefully away in a blanket which he had selected for the purpose, shouldered the bundle Archie pointed out to him and marched cheerfully off with the others. He began to act more like himself now. He had discovered that a few hours’ work would make his machine just as good as it was before.
Archie, who was leading the way, had not gone many rods before he told himself that their attempt to reach the Fort was certain to prove a failure. He knew that the storm was a hard one, but he had only a faint idea of its fury until he had fairly left the shelter of the cliffs. In the first gully they entered the snow covered the ground to the depth of three or four inches, and in some places had been whirled into drifts that reached almost to the tops of his boots. The main gully—the one that led to the valley in which the wild horse had been captured—was even worse. If the storm continued twenty-four hours longer, it would be quite impassable. They kept bravely on, carrying the crying children by turns and shifting their heavy bundles from one shoulder to the other, until they came within sight of the prairie, and there they stopped. It was folly to think of going farther.
Fred and Eugene were appalled at the sight presented to their gaze, and Archie, who had witnessed many a New England snow-storm, declared that he had never seen anything like it. They could not see twenty yards in any direction, except down the gully from which they had just emerged. Everything was concealed by the drifting snow. The wind blew a gale, and the boys could not face it for a moment. Fred and Eugene shielded their eyes with their arms and looked at Archie to see what he thought about it.
“I am afraid to try it,” said the former. “The snow cuts like a knife. I never saw anything like this in Louisiana. I am so cold already that I can scarcely talk.”
“We can’t try it,” said Archie; “it is out of the question. We could not go a quarter of a mile against this wind to save our lives. Besides, just as soon as we got out of sight of the mountains, which would be in less than two minutes, we should lose our way and that would be the last of us. We must go back and wait until the storm is over.”
Upon hearing this decision, Fred and Eugene quickly retreated to the gully, where the Pike and his family had already taken refuge, while Archie followed more leisurely, glancing back at the prairie occasionally, looking up at the clouds, as if trying to judge of the probable duration of the storm, and then fastening his eyes on the ground, as if revolving some problem in his mind.
“We’re snowed up,” said he, when he joined his companions again. “I was afraid of it, but it is nothing we can help, so we must make the best of it. We must go back to the wagons. That is the most sheltered spot I know of. Hadn’t you better go ahead and build up the fire?” he added, turning to the Pike, who was shaking like a man with the ague. “Your children will perish if you keep them out here. We will follow you as soon as we leave something to guide our friends, who will be certain to hunt us up in a few days.”