“Well, we might be, if dinner was a bit late, and you didn’t have a roast turkey,” the Ranger said.
“Well, I move we have late dinner, and take Joe along. All in favor, say aye.”
Bob and Alice yelled “Aye!” and Mr. Elkins said, “Jones and I are paired, so it’s a vote.”
Joe tried to say some word of thanks to Lucy, but he couldn’t manage it. Besides, he had no time, for Mrs. Jones broke in:
“Well, I’d like to know if you expect Mrs. Elkins and me to stay here all alone?”
“You might be getting the dinner, Martha,” her husband grinned.
“Val will stay in camp,” Mills said. “He’s fed up on glaciers, anyhow, ain’t you, Val?”
The young cowboy nodded. “You can have ’em all,” he said, “and welcome.”
So Joe found himself in the small party headed for Blackfeet Glacier, as soon as he had put his stew to simmer over a small fire, which Val promised to keep going. Mills took three of the strongest ropes from the packs, and they set off up the steep, rough trail climbing the shoulder of Jackson. They soon had a superb view below them, first of the meadow, with their own tents like white dots in it, and then back down the cañon to St. Mary Lake, and the great pink and gray pyramid of Going-to-the-Sun Mountain. But it was not long before every one stopped looking at the view, and paid entire attention to the trail. This was a side trail, not one of the regular tourist highways, and it was not built for comfort. It was tremendously steep, and very rough, more like a flight of high, irregular stone steps than a path.
“Oh, I think this is terrible on the poor horses!” Lucy said, as her horse scrambled up a rock, and she had to cling to his mane to stick on the saddle.