Tom set to work to get the trophies. He could not make the fine job of it such as he always liked to carry out; because the flakes seemed to be getting more numerous now, and evidently the storm was becoming tired of holding back, just to accommodate them.
"I can fix 'em up in apple-pie shape after we get home," he remarked; and Felix had no difficulty in forgiving him; because just then he believed that it would be a good thing to be quartered once again under the roof of the dugout, where he could find a peaceful bed, after a night on the hard, unyielding rocks.
It was, of course, no child's play, clambering down all sorts of slippery places, burdened, as the boys were, with the meat of the young big-horn, and the heavy head piece of the patriarch of the flock; but save for a few minor accidents that did not amount to anything beyond some scratches, they managed to finally reach the valley.
By that time, however, it was snowing heavily, and the wind seemed to be rising; for while the mountains were entirely concealed from their view, they could hear it beginning to whistle around the ledges and cliffs that had marked their line of descent.
And when, later, the boys staggered up to the dugout, it was with a sense of deepest satisfaction; now let the storm howl, since they were assured of shelter, food and warmth.
[CHAPTER XV—OUT FOR A GRIZZLY]
After all, the storm did not last more than a few hours. As Tom had declared, no one could ever predict what a snow storm was going to amount to. The boys, however, were just as well pleased that they managed to get safely housed before the coming of another night. And as they sat by their fire, when supper had been disposed of, Felix mentioned the fact that he could imagine how it must feel to be snow bound in a dreary place like that elevated plateau, with the prospect ahead of perhaps a week of fighting the cold wind to keep from freezing.
He was busily engaged in working upon the bighorn trophy. And it gave him more satisfaction than he could tell, just to know that he had secured such a magnificent trophy unaided. Every time he glanced up at it, when upon the wall at home, he would doubtless remember that mountain climb, and the camp under the ledge of rock.
"I've got something to tell you," remarked Tom, with a smile; "only before I open up I want you to promise not to try and hurry me; because, you see, I've got a lot of traps out, and they have to be attended to properly, or else I quit the business."
"Oh!" replied Felix, "I give you my promise, all right. Now, what are you going to tell me? Haven't found a wolf's den, have you, with some cubs in it? Perhaps, now, you've sighted one of those rare black foxes, that they say are worth all the way from seven hundred up to several thousand dollars a pelt! That would be fine news, wouldn't it, now?"