"We ought to reach the hut by the middle of the afternoon," said Crothers.
"What's the hut?" I asked, having heard nothing before of such a place. Then Crothers explained that it was a rude little cabin which the colonel had erected beside the path, to be used as a stopping-place on the way to the outside world, or as a lodge on hunting expeditions. He was hopeful that we would find the colonel or the doctor or both there. It seemed to me very probable that we would.
Grace, who had been somewhat down-hearted, though she never complained, cheered up at the prospect of the hut, and in truth all our little army pressed forward with fresh zest and enthusiasm. Hope is easily able to pin itself upon little things. We walked and slid along at much better speed, and Crothers even told stories of winter campaigns, though he was forced to admit that he had never found skates quite so necessary as they seemed to be now.
Our path led directly toward a ridge which seemed to block the way like a wall.
"Up there on the comb of that ridge is the hut," said Crothers.
Though my muscles complained and my bruises were as numerous as the spots on a leopard, I was full of ambition to reach this little lodge of logs, which seemed to me to be a fit home for some Robinson Crusoe of the mountains. Presently Crothers uttered a joyful grunt,—he never rose to the dignity of an exclamation,—and pointed to a find blue trail of smoke rising like a white plume from the slender comb of the ridge.
"That's from the hut," he said, "and somebody's there, sure."
His logic seemed sound. The smoke had a most comfortable, home-like look. It was a bit of warmth and cheer in the cold, white wilderness. It encouraged us so much that we were willing to wager we would find both the colonel and the doctor there, good friends again, and ready to return with us to Fort Defiance.
As we advanced, the column was defined more clearly against the sky, and Crothers was positive that it came from the hut.