It did not take long to make a trade. Jack reserved his six-shooters, blankets and three or four fine cat and fox skins. Joe gave him a good Indian pony, a silver watch, and the balance in money for the provisions, rifle, ammunition and other paraphernalia, except the remaining furs, traps and cooking utensils, which were the legitimate belongings of the trapper.
But the awful perils of a trip over an unknown trail in midwinter rose up as a barrier between Jack and civilization. The night had come on and Yamanatz, with Chiquita, as silent witnesses to the exchange of chattels, sat beside the camp fire. Grotesque shadows wavered and wandered back and forth in and out of the gloom as Jack replenished the disappearing embers with new fuel preparatory to a pow-wow in which the final arrangements were to be completed concerning his escape from Rock Creek, his return later when the winter passed, when Yamanatz should conduct him to the great gold deposit. It was a matter of a hundred miles to the nearest ranch in Middle Park, before reaching which was a "divide," the top of which soared far above the surrounding hills, and then came the Gore, or Park range, split by the Grand River into an impassable cañon, along whose steep side ran the old Ute trail, up, up, until it crossed the snow-covered summit beyond timber line, and thence descended by serpentine and circuitous windings to the southern entrance of the Park. From there to the ranch on the Troublesome was open level country, across which was comparatively easy traveling. The other pass over the Gore range, which was used by the trapper and Jack when they made their incoming trip to Rock Creek, was already closed by snow as far as travel by horses was concerned, and for that matter the Ute trail was closed, except for being opened by the band of Indians and thirty or forty ponies bucking their way through to Sulphur Springs.
[CHAPTER V.]
THE CAMP IN THE WILLOWS.
The most difficult portions of the journey would be encountered the first day over the numerous ridges of barren waste intervening between Rock Creek and the high divide. Old Joe shook his head in uncertain manner when Jack asserted his confidence in being able to follow after Colorow. Yamanatz nodded in assent at the dangers confronted by the dilemma of Jack's unfamiliarity with the trail, and then in that portentous monosyllabic manner of Indians in brief words conveying whole paragraphs of information but adding to the dismal forebodings, said:
"White man all right. Plenty sign when trail in big woods. Heap sign on big trees. Come big open, no trees, no sign; one look, two look, three look, all same. All snow, no trail, no tree. Get lost; sundown, no fire, no camp. White man cold. Pretty soon sleep; fall off pony; sleep long time."
Then Jack knew that "three looks" would carry him from the top of one high hill to the top of another, as far as the eye could reach to the horizon, into a country absolutely treeless, and where even an Indian would be lost if he had never been shown the trail. To attempt the trip alone would be sheer madness and only result in that subtle overpowering sleep into eternity—death by freezing.
Yamanatz stopped speaking for a moment to give his hearers ample time to fully understand him, then continued: "White man sabe? Colorow gone one sleep, mebbe so not make 'em Gore range. White man catch 'em pony tomorrow. Two sleeps before can take 'em trail to follow Colorow, sabe? Colorow mebbe so come back meet 'em white man. Colorow then heap mad, no get 'em flour, bacon. Colorow, Antelope, Bennett all heap hungry. White man no got 'em big gun; little gun not much good, mebbe so?" and Yamanatz lapsed into silence.
There was no need to ask anything more. The cunning old warrior knew only too well the fate that awaited Jack if Colorow and his ugly renegade Indians should fail to get through to Sulphur Springs and had to return empty handed to Rock Creek. Old Joe knew, too, that his own safety would be problematical, even with his years of familiarity with the whole Ute tribe. The gloom that settled over them was full of foreboding. Each one was striving to hatch out a plan that would dispel the dangers now besetting Jack's safety.
It was useless to think of old Joe attempting the trip with Jack, and Yamanatz made no sign of being willing to assume the role of guide. At last as Jack was about to abandon all hope, Chiquita arose and, crossing over to where Jack was, bid him to be of good cheer.