"And for that reason, you think we should turn to the north instead, and go deeper into the mountains?" said Boyd.
"'Pears sound reasonin' to me."
"Then we'll do it."
"But we don't go fur, leastways not today. It wouldn't be more'n two or three hours till night anyhow, an' see them clouds in thar to the south, all thickenin' up. We're going to hev rain on the mountains, an' I think we'd better make another wickiup, ez one o' them terrible sleets may come on."
Boyd and Will agreed with him and a mile farther they found a place that they considered suitable, an opening in which they would not be exposed to any tree blown down by a blizzard, but with a heavy growth of short pines near by, among which the horses and mules might find shelter. Then the three worked with amazing speed, and by the time the full dark had come the wickiup was done, the skins that they had brought with them being stretched tightly over the poles. Then, munching their cold food, they crawled in and coiled themselves about the walls, wrapped deep in their blankets. Contrary to the Indian custom, they left the low door open for air, and just when Will felt himself well disposed for the night he heard the first patter of the sleet.
It was almost pitch dark in the wickiup, but, through the opening, he could see the hail beating upon the earth in streams of white. The old feeling of comfort and security in face of the wildest that the wilderness had to offer returned to him. When they reached Clarke Valley and built their wickiup he had one powerful friend, but now when the Sioux were once more in pursuit, he had two. The Little Giant had made upon him an ineffaceable impression of courage, skill and loyalty that would stand any test.
"The hail's goin' to drive all through the night," Giant Tom called out in the darkness.
"Right you are," said the hunter, "and the Sioux won't think of trying that pass on such a night. They're back in the valley, in wickiups of their own."
"Might it not stop them entirely?" asked Will.
"No, young William, it won't," said the Little Giant. "They'll come through the pass tomorrow, knowin' thar's only one way by which we kin go, an' then try to pick up our trail when the sleet melts. But tonight, at least, nobody's goin' to find us."