“Tally thinks one of us might stray, if the darkness overtakes us as suddenly as it falls on these deserts sometimes,” said Mr. Gilroy.
Before every one was hitched securely to the horse in front, so that a long line of riders traveled in file, a soughing wind could be heard coming from the north.
“Now, what can that be? More trouble?” demanded Mrs. Vernon.
“We hope not, but Tally says that quite often, after a hot sandstorm, it returns with sleet and hail; so we’d better be ready in case this chill portends such a comeback,” explained Mr. Gilroy.
“What a fate! To drink poison, then fight a simoon, and at last to die in a desert blizzard!” cried Julie frantically trying to sit upright and defy the fates.
“Such is Rocky Mountain weather,” Mr. Gilroy laughed gaily, as if he must inspire his friends with his bravado.
The oncoming blizzard had darkened the sky even before its time, but Tally kept bravely on, encouraging the horses with coos and Indian words, until even the riders felt the spirit he manifested and felt braver to face what was impending.
Just before the sleet began to drive into their faces enough to blind them and shut out everything not two feet ahead, Mr. Gilroy shouted out cheerfully, “Ha! I see a light twinkling out ahead! We’ve reached a house, anyway!”
“Where? where?” asked a chorus of voices.
Then most of them discerned the faint little beacon, and urged their weary horses to renewed effort, and the animals seemed to understand that their work was almost done for that day, and actually moved faster.