Polly in the Southwest

by Lillian Elizabeth Roy

But the guide had noticed the few scattered bits of snow, and he was determined to take no chances with his party. He led the way to a crosstrail on the mountain-side, and took the side trail instead of the one which ascended directly ahead of the riders. He planned to follow this gradually ascending road for a time, and, should the flurry of snow prove nothing more, he could regain the main trail farther on where another crosstrail struck upward. In case the snow came down heavier, and threatened to continue, he could lead his party back down the mountain from that crosstrail.

But a careful guide’s plans may go astray, even like the wise mice in the fable, and so it happened with Job Barnes.

The pines were noticeably shorter and more slender as the trail ascended higher and higher, and it was also seen that the trees looked tougher and many of them bore scars left by the winter storms. Many were twisted and their tops blunted from the fierce gales and blizzards which swept like cyclones over the peaks. But the trail continued good and interesting, and the little cavalcade rode on with many a merry jest and carefree laugh.

Finally they entered a thick forest of aspens through which the trail accommodated no more than one horse at a time. It was after riding halfway through the length of this forest, that a sudden gale of wind came down from the peaks, and with it came a great cloud of snow. Instantly the air became choked with fine snow, and the temperature dropped suddenly so that every one in the party began to shiver and shake. The horses, rebelling against going on in the face of this cold blizzard, balked, but they could not turn in the narrow tunnel between the aspens.

Fortunately the guide rode first, and Jack brought up the rear, so that the horses of the girls could not back nor forge ahead in order to get away from where they were.

“What shall we do?” shouted Jack, to get orders from the guide.

“Wait for a few moments and see if she blows over.”

So they all sat as though frozen to the saddles, while the guide tied a rope to the horn of his saddle and then jumped from his horse and carried the rope back to tie a loop to each saddle in the line behind his horse. When Jack’s horse, the last one, had been thus hitched up in line, the guide advised him.

“Don’t let your horse balk or stampede. Use your spurs, if necessary, to control him. We’re near a nasty bit of road that runs along the rim of a rocky ravine, and I’d like to keep this side of it if I can manage the animals so they will move slowly. I might have to chop down enough aspens to allow the horses to turn, so we can ride back the way we came, but chopping trees takes time, and I brought but one axe.”

“Oh, we’ll be all right,” was Jack’s assurance. “Just go on carefully, and warn us when we reach the gulch.”