Then came the descent, the storm thickening about them. Occasionally Miller threw a direction or a warning over his shoulder, which always caused Ross’s heart to leap fearfully.
"Don’t go outside my tracks here. There’s a flat rock on the down side that ends in a ledge. Not a pretty slide t’ take," he shouted once.
Again it was: "Be careful ahead here under that rock. Brace toward the inside of the trail. We may get a few pounds of snow on our heads."
For half an hour longer they tramped on steadily. Ross ached in every muscle. His feet were beginning to cramp. They almost refused to raise the snow-shoes and push them forward. Miller slackened his speed when he saw that Ross was nearly played out.
"A few minutes more, and we’re there," he explained. "Keep up your courage."
And at that moment Ross thought he had need of courage. They had been descending the mountain gradually above timber-line, zigzagging back and forth across the face in such a way as would enable them to use their snow-shoes to the best advantage. Now the storm lightened just enough to enable Ross to see they were traveling along the edge of a cliff with an overhanging fringe of trees, and the cliff appeared to the boy to be the jumping off place into space. Right and left as far as the falling snow permitted him to see the cliff extended. Above was the white bulk of the mountain; below was nothing but storm.
Along this cliff Miller had walked slowly, pausing occasionally to look up into the trees. Finally he gave a grunt of satisfaction, and, throwing his staff and the heavy pouch on the rock, took from the snow-laden branches of a pine a coil of slender new rope.
"Nerves good?" he asked jokingly.
"For what?" was Ross’s startled response.
Miller explained. Ross saw that for the first time the colored goggles were no longer astride the other’s nose. His cap was drawn down over his eyes, however, and his coat collar was turned up so that not much of his face was visible save his nose.