Many a hard storm roared through the valley after that, but the weather gradually grew warmer, the snow melted slowly away, and finally the grass began to appear in the sunniest places, and the drifts to look as though the wind had scattered dust over them.
It was no longer necessary to cut down trees for the pony and mule to feed upon. They preferred the withered grass to the innutritious buds and twigs of the cottonwood, and the change in their diet soon began to make a change in their appearance and spirits.
Spring was coming, but so slowly that Oscar grew tired of waiting for it. It seemed as though the deep drifts in the gorge would never melt away; and when they did, a roaring torrent, which showed no indications of drying up, took their place. The grass in the valley was seen before the gorge was passable.
The day of their deliverance was close at hand, however, and one bright morning the guide aroused the slumbering boys by shouting out the order to “catch up.”
This meant to cook and eat the breakfast, saddle the pony, and hitch the mule to the wagon, which had for days been loaded and ready for the start.
These duties consumed but little of their time, for all three worked as if they were in a great hurry.
In less than an hour the wagon, with Tom and the guide on the seat, was on its way down the valley, while Oscar lingered behind for a moment to make sure that nothing had been forgotten.
It was not without a feeling of sadness that he took his last look about the cabin in which he had spent so many happy hours.
The journey to the fort was safely and quickly accomplished.
They found Ike Barker in his dug-out, and the greeting he extended to them was cordial, indeed.