Boy-like, they had figured on the future only so far as the end of the river journey was concerned. A motor boat trip down the Columbia was too fascinating, they declared, to be mixed up with any prosaic monetary calculations!
“If we go broke,” Case had said, when the closing details were under discussion, “we can walk back! I’d rather swim around Cape Horn and walk back to little old Chicago than miss the days and nights we are going to have on the Columbia!”
“You’re light headed!” Alex had responded.
“That will be an aid in swimming!” Case had replied. “Anyway, it is the Columbia first. The future may take care of itself!”
This night in the mountain pass should have been spent on the Columbia at or near Donald, but the boys were by no means discouraged. Case was inclined to express annoyance and disgust at unfavorable conditions, but really he was as courageous in the face of difficulties as either of his companions. They had been left on the spur early that morning, and had anticipated relief in the shape of a wrecking outfit before noon.
While the supper of bacon, beans, pancakes and coffee sputtered and steamed on the electric stove and the heater sent out generous waves of warmth, Clay arose and opened the cabin door, which faced to the west. The wind immediately chased itself into the room, played tag with everything movable, and went whistling cheerily out again.
At a shout of remonstrance from Alex, Clay drew the door shut and stepped out on the deck of the Rambler. He stood for a second with the wind from the Pacific keen on his face, the ruddy light of the setting sun bright in his eyes, and then beckoned through the glass panel of the door to the boys inside. Case was too busy over the pancakes to notice the signal, but Alex increased Case’s anger by opening the door again and forcing his body out against the wind.
The sun dropping lower, the pencils of light which touched the crags were slipping away, leaving them indistinct in the gathering night, as if the sunlight had brought them into existence with a touch and condemned them to obliteration by withdrawing itself from their angular sides. The boys stood for a second in silence, Clay listening.
“Huh!” Alex grinned, catching Clay by the arm and pointing to the wild country to the west. “This makes me feel queer! Why, we might be the sons of Noah, looking out of the Ark after it stranded on Mt. Ararat! Here we are, in a boat up on the mountains, and there, below, is the lifeless world! I wonder,” he continued, nudging Clay in the ribs to give emphasis to his observation, “if we had a dove, and the dove should be sent out, whether it would bring back an engine with a car fitted up to drag this old hulk to the railroad hospital?”
“No dove would mind bringing a wrecking train back in his bill!” replied Clay. “Of course not!”