Presently the three left together.
Weimer, wide awake, moved around the shack.
"Dat Veston!" he chuckled. "How many kinds of beoples ist he? I could shut mine eyes and tink he vas dem all."
The next day was Sunday, and early in the morning in the teeth of a mild wind and threatened storm Ross was off for Miners’ Camp. As far as the shoulder around Crosby he went on snow-shoes. Arrived at the shoulder, and, making use of the long, sharp spike which he carried, he picked his way cautiously forward, pushing through the deep snow in the trail with his feet and knees, the spike set on the outer edge to prevent his slipping. Again and again a ledge of overhanging snow would break away and fall on him; and, light even as the snow yet was, its weight dropping on his shoulders caused him to stagger. The snow-shoes also became a burden, for they were a useless encumbrance until he reached the foot of the mountain and struck out for Steele’s shack over two miles of snow already five feet deep.
When he reached Gale’s Ridge, he was almost exhausted, not only from pushing through the snow on the trail, but from the unaccustomed effort of walking on snow-shoes. Already he was dreading the most difficult task of all–the return journey.
Steele met him with a manifest uneasiness.
"Grant, your trips down to Camp this season are numbered," he cautioned as they sat down to an early dinner. "An old trailer could creep around the shoulder of Crosby for a little while yet, but neither you nor I could do it in safety. The snow’s gettin’ so almighty deep now, and blowin’ up in ledges on the shoulder–you probably got a ducking coming over?" His tone arose inquiringly.
Ross nodded. "Several times a lot of snow dropped on me; once I almost lost my balance."
Steele moved uneasily. "That’s the trouble with that trail even before there’s danger of a regular avalanche. You’re likely to get swept over when you least expect it, and going back is worse than coming."
Directly after dinner Ross commenced to bind on his snow-shoes for an early departure, having filled his pockets with candy for Weimer. His heart was heavy, and he had a queer, choky sensation as he looked around the little shack, which he might not see again in months.