In the effort of guiding their animals into the trail, they did not at first notice the change in the sky until suddenly Martin, ahead, looked up. The sun had disappeared, and a grey mist clung to the tall peaks. The air had grown cold—a sudden drop of the temperature—which was an unmistakable sign of the approaching storm. He did not call out to startle those in the rear, but on reaching a small cove he turned the mule he was riding into it, and beckoned to the others. They were coming up Indian file, and one by one halted beside him—all but Talitha. Martin could see her some distance below them. Something had happened to the sorrel, for his sister had dismounted and was leading it with difficulty.
“There’s a storm coming up.” Miss Howard shivered and looked around anxiously. “It’s growing colder every minute, I do believe; I never knew such a sudden change.”
“It must have been coming on since noon only we were so sheltered we didn’t notice it,” returned Martin. “Just hold Jack and I’ll go back and help Talitha,” slipping the mule’s rein into Abner’s hand.
The sorrel clung to the trail with three feet; the fourth was evidently disabled. The animal’s ears were laid back and there was a despairing look in his eyes. Vainly Talitha tugged at the rein while she gently urged him on.
“What’s the matter?” Martin inquired.
“Well, he’s all tuckered out for one thing, then he’s got something in his foot—a sharp stone, I reckon, for he’s limped ever since he left the creek bed. Poor thing, I might have known he couldn’t stand such a jaunt.”
With difficulty Martin got down and examined the injured member. It did not take him long, with the aid of his jack-knife, to extract the offending stone, which had cut an ugly gash. “There, that feels better, doesn’t it, old fellow? Just see if you can’t step along now.” He stroked the animal’s nose coaxingly. “You’d better go ahead, Tally, and we’ll follow.” The tired sorrel plucked up courage and limped after.
When they reached the cove Abner silently pointed to the peaks on the opposite range, and Martin saw with dismay that they were nearly buried in a storm of flying snowflakes which was gradually drawing nearer. The boys’ faces whitened as their eyes met. If they had been alone it would be serious enough with the prospect of a heavy snowfall to wipe out the trail, but with Miss Howard and the girls to look after—Martin felt a shiver, which was not from the cold wind, creep over him. It was Miss Howard herself who finally spoke with a calm decision.
“Boys, have you plenty of matches?”
“Yes,” they both answered.