Kitabı oku: «The Great Sioux Trail: A Story of Mountain and Plain», sayfa 10
If the Indian would not use a rifle because of the report, then the case was the reverse with Will. He had thought that the men were too far away to hear, but perhaps the warrior was right, and raising the repeating rifle he sent a bullet into the void. The sharp report came back in many echoes, but he heard no reply from the valley. A second shot, and still no answer. It was evident that the three were too distant to hear, and, for the present, he thought it wise to waste no more bullets.
The power of the sun increased, seeming to concentrate its rays in the little hollow in which Will lay. His face was scorched and his burning thirst was almost intolerable. Yet he reflected that the heat must be at the zenith. Soon the sun would decline, and then would come night, under the cover of which he might escape.
He heard a heavy, rolling sound and a great rock crashed into the valley below. Will shuddered and crowded himself back for every inch of shelter he could obtain. A second rock rolled down, but did not come so near, then a third bounded directly over his head, followed quickly by another in almost the same place.
It was a hideous bombardment, but he realized that so long as he kept close in his little den he was safe. It also told him that his opponent was directly above him, and when the volleys of rocks ceased he might get a shot.
The missiles poured down for several minutes and then ceased abruptly. Evidently the warrior had realized the futility of his avalanche and must now be seeking some other mode of attack. It caused Will chagrin that he had not seen him once during all the long attack, but he noticed with relief that the sun would soon set beyond the great White Dome. The snow on the Dome itself was tinged now with fire, but it looked cool even at the distance, and assuaged a little his heat and thirst. He knew that bye and bye the long shadows would fall, and then the grateful cold of the night would come.
He moved a little, flexed his muscles, grown stiff by his cramped position, and as he did so he caught a glimpse of a figure on the south face of the wall. But it was so fleeting he was not sure. If he had only brought his glasses with him he might have decided, but he was without them, and he concluded finally that it was merely an optical illusion. He and the Indian had the mountain walls to themselves, and the warrior could not have moved around to that point.
In spite of his decision his eyes at length wandered again to that side of the wall, and a second time he thought he caught a glimpse of a human figure creeping among the rocks, but much nearer now. Then he realized that it was no illusion. He had, in very truth, seen a man, and as he still looked a rifle was thrust over a ledge, a puff of fire leaping from its muzzle. From a point above him came a cry that he knew to be a death yell, and the body of a warrior shot downward, striking on the ledges until it bounded clear of them and crashed into the valley below.
Then the figure of the man who had fired the shot stepped upon a rocky shelf, held aloft the weapon with which he had dealt sudden and terrible death, and cried in a tremendous voice:
"Come forth, young William! Your besieger will besiege no more! Ef I do say it myself, I've never made a better shot."
It was the Little Giant. Never had the sight of him been more welcome, and raising himself stiffly to his feet and moving his own rifle about his head, Will shouted in reply:
"It was not only your greatest shot, but the greatest shot ever made by anybody."
"Stay whar you are," cried Bent. "You're too stiff an' sore to risk climbin' jest yet. I'll be with you soon."
But it was almost dark before the Little Giant crept around the face of the cliff and reached the hollow in which the lad lay. Then he told him that he had seen some of the rocks falling and as he was carrying Will's glasses he was able to pick out the warrior at the top of the cliff. The successful shot followed and the siege was over.
Night had now come and it was an extremely delicate task to find their way back to the valley, but they made the trip at last without mishap. Once again on level ground Will was forced to sit down and rest until a sudden faintness passed. The Little Giant regarded him with sympathy.
"You had a pretty tough time, young William, thar's no denyin' that," he said. "It's hard to be cooped up in a hole in a mountainside, with an enemy shootin' at you an' sendin' avalanches down on you, an' you never seein' him a-tall."
"I never saw him once until he plunged from the cliff with your bullet through him."
"Wa'al, it's all over now, an' we'll go back to the camp. The boys had been worryin' 'bout you some, and I concluded I'd come out an' look fur you, an' ef it hadn't been fur my concludin' so I guess you'd been settin' thar in that holler a month from now, an' the Indian would hev been settin' in a holler above you. At least I hev saved you from a long waitin' spell."
"You have," said Will with heartfelt emphasis, "and again I thank you."
"Come on, then. I kin see the fire shinin' through the trees an' Jim an' Steve cookin' our supper."
Will hurried along, but his knees grew weak again and objects swam before his eyes. He had not yet recovered his strength fully after passing through the tremendous test of mental and physical endurance, when he lay so long in that little hollow in the side of the mountain. The Little Giant was about to thrust out a hand and help sustain him, but he did not do so, remembering that it would hurt the lad's pride. The gold hunter, uneducated, spending his life in the wilds, had nevertheless a delicacy of feeling worthy of the finest flower of civilization.
Will was near to the fire now and the pleasant aroma of broiling venison came to him. Boyd and Brady were moving about the flames, engaged in pleasant homely tasks, and all his strength returned. Once more his head was steady and his muscles strong.
"I made a long stay," he called cheerfully to them, "too long, I fear, nor do I bring a mountain sheep back with me."
The sharp eyes of the hunter and the trapper saw at once in his pallid face and exaggerated manner that something unusual had happened, but they pretended to take no notice.
"Did you see any sheep?" asked Boyd.
"Yes," replied the lad, "I had a splendid view of a grand ram, standing high on a jutting stone over the great valley."
"What became of him?"
"I don't know. I became so busy with something else that I forgot all about him, and he must have gone away in the twilight. An Indian in a niche above me began firing arrows at me, and I had to stick close in a little hollow in the stone so he couldn't reach me. If the Little Giant hadn't come along, and made another of his wonderful shots I suppose I'd be staying there for a week to come."
"Tom can shoot a little," said Boyd, divining the whole story from the lad's few sentences, "and he also has a way of shooting at the right time. Now, you sit down here, Will, and eat these steaks I'm broiling, and I'll give you a cup of coffee, too, just one cup though, because we're sparing our coffee as much as we can now."
Will ate and drank with a great appetite, and then he told more fully of his adventure with the foe whom he had never seen until the Little Giant's bullet sent him spinning into the void.
"He'd have got you," said Brady thoughtfully, "if Tom hadn't come along."
"You know we wuz worried 'bout him stayin' so long," said the Little Giant, "an' so I went out to look fur him. It wuz lucky that I took his glasses along, or I might never hev seen him or the Sioux. I don't want to brag, but that wuz one o' my happy thoughts."
"You had nothing to do with taking the glasses, Tom Bent," said Brady seriously.
"Why, it wuz my own idee!"
"Not at all. The idea was in your head but it was not put there by your own mind. It was put there by the Infinite, and it was put there because Will's time had not yet come. You were merely an instrument, Tom Bent."
"Mebbe I wuz. I'm not takin' any credit to myself fur deep thinkin' an' I 'low you know more 'bout these things than I do, Steve Brady, since you've had your mind on 'em so much an' so long. An' ef I wuz used ez an instrument to save Will, I'm proud that it wuz so."
Will, who was lying on the turf propped up by his elbow before the fire, looked up at the skies, which were now a clear silver, in which countless stars appeared to hang, lower and larger than he had ever seen them before. It was a beautiful sky, and whether it was merely fate or chance that had sent the Little Giant to his aid he felt with the poet that God was in his heaven, and, for the time at least, all was right with his world.
"You got a good sight of the Indian, did you, Tom?" asked Boyd.
"I saw him plain through the glasses. He wuz a Sioux. I couldn't make no mistake. Like ez not he wuz a hunter from the village we saw on the slope below, an' whar one hunter is another may not be fur away."
"Thinking as you do," said Boyd, "and thinking as I do the same way you do, I think we'd better put out our fire and shift to another part of the valley."
"That's a lot of 'thinks,'" said Brady, "but it seems to me that you're both right, and I've no doubt such thoughts are put into our minds to save our lives. Perhaps it would be best for us to start up the slopes at once, but if our time is coming tonight it will come and no flight of ours will alter it."
Nevertheless they took the precaution to stamp out the last coal, and then moved silently with the animals to another part of the dip. While they were tethering their horses and mules there in a little glade all the animals began to tremble violently and it required Will's utmost efforts to soothe them. The acute ears of Brady detected a low growling on their right, not far from the base of the cliff.
"Come, Tom," he said to the Little Giant. "You and I will see what it is, and be sure you're ready with that rifle of yours. You ought to shoot beautifully in this clear moonlight."
They disappeared among the bushes, but returned in a few minutes, although the growling had become louder and was continuous. Both men had lost a little of their ruddiness.
"What was it?" asked Will.
"It wuz your friend, the Sioux warrior who held you in the cliff so long," replied the Little Giant, shuddering. "Half a dozen big mountain wolves are quarrelin' 'bout the right place to bury him in. But, anyway, he's bein' buried, an' mighty fast too."
Will shuddered also, and over and over again. In fact, his nervous system had been so shaken that it would not recover its full force for a day, and the others, trained to see all things, noticed it.
"You soothe them animals ag'in, young William," said the Little Giant, "an' we'll spread the blankets fur our beds here in the bushes."
Bent again showed supreme judgment, as in quieting the fears of the horses and mules for the second time Will found that renewed strength flowed back into his own nervous system, and when he returned to the fireless camp his hand and voice were once more quite steady.
"There is your bed, William," said Brady. "You lie on one blanket, put the other over you, and also one of the bearskins. It's likely to be a dry and cold night, but anyway, whether it rains or snows, it will rain or snow on the just and the unjust, and blankets and bearskin should keep you dry. That growling in the bushes, too, has ceased, and our friend, the Sioux, who sought your life, has found a dreadful grave."
Will shuddered once more, but when he crept between the blankets his nerves were soothed rapidly and he soon fell asleep.
The three men kept watch and watch through the night, and they saw no Indian foe. Once Boyd heard a rustling in the bushes, and he made out the figure of a huge mountain wolf that stood staring at them for a moment. The horses and mules began to stir uneasily, and, picking up a stone, the hunter threw it with such good aim that the wolf, struck smartly on the body, ran away.
The animals relapsed into quiet, and nothing more stirred in the bushes, until the leaves began to move under the light breeze that came at dawn.
CHAPTER IX
THE BUFFALO MARCH
Drawn by an impulse that he tried to check but could not, Will went in the morning to the point in the bushes whence the growling had come the night before, finding there nothing but the bones of the Sioux, from which every trace of flesh had been removed. He shuddered once more. He, instead of the warrior, might have been the victim. His eyes, trained now to look upon the earth as a book and to read what might be printed there, saw clearly the tracks of the wolves among the grass and leaves. After finishing what they had come to do they had gone away some distance and had gathered together in a close group, as if they had meditated an attack, possibly upon the horses and mules.
Will knew how great and fierce the mountain wolves of the north were, and he was glad to note that, after their council, they had gone on and perhaps had left the valley. At least, he was able to follow their tracks as far as the lower rocks, where they disappeared. When he returned to the little camp he told what he had seen.
"We're in no danger of a surprise from the big wolves," said Brady. "They'd have killed and eaten some of the horses and mules if we hadn't been here, but wolves are smart, real smart. Like as not they saw Thomas shoot the Sioux, and they knew that the long stick he carried, from which fire spouted, slaying the warrior, was like the long sticks all of us carry, and that to attack us here was death for them. Oh, I know I'm guessing a lot, but I've observed 'em a long time and I'm convinced wolves can reason that far."
"All animals are smarter than we think they are," said the Little Giant. "I've lived among 'em a heap, an' know a lot o' their ways. Only they've a diff'rent set o' intellectooals from ours. What we're smart in they ain't, an' what they're smart in we ain't. Now, ef I had joined to what I am myself the strength o' a grizzly bear, the cunnin' o' a wolf an' the fleetness o' an antelope I reckon I'd be 'bout the best man that ever trod 'roun' on this planet."
"I've one thing to suggest before we start," said Will, "and I think it's important."
"What is it?" asked Boyd.
"That we make copies of the map. We may become separated for long periods – everything indicates that we will – I might fall into the hands of Felton, who seems to have a hint about the mine, and, if I saw such a thing about to occur, I would destroy the map, and then you would have the copies. Each of you faced by a similar misfortune could make away with his copy, and if the worst came to the worst I could re-draw it from memory."
"Good idee! Good idee!" exclaimed the Little Giant with enthusiasm. "I've been tellin' Jim an' Steve that though they mightn't think it, you had the beginnin's o' intelleck in that head o' yours."
"Thank you," said Will, and they all laughed.
"It's a good thought," said Boyd, "and we'd better do it at once."
Will carried in his pack some pens and a small bottle of indelible ink, and with these they drew with the greatest care three more maps on fine deerskin, small but very clear, and then every man stored one in a secure place about his person.
"Now, remember," said Boyd, "if any one of us is in danger of capture he must get rid of his map."
Then, their breakfast over, they began the ascent of the slope, leading toward the White Dome, finding it easier than they had thought. As always, difficulties decreased when they faced them boldly, and even the animals, refreshed by their stay in the valley, showed renewed vigor, climbing like goats. The Little Giant whistled merrily, mostly battle songs of the late war which was still so fresh in the minds of all men.
"I notice that you whistle songs of both sides," said Brady. "Musically, at least, you have no feeling about our great Civil War."
"Nor any other way, either," rejoined the Little Giant. "I may hev hed my feelin's once, though I ain't sayin' now what they wuz, but fur me the war is all over, done fit clean out. They say six or seven hundred thousand men wuz lost in it, an' now that it's over it's got to stop right thar. I'm lookin' to the future, I am, to the quarter of a million in gold that's comin' to me, an' the gorgeous ways in which I'm goin' to spend it. Young William, see that big mountain ram standin' out on the side o' the peak over thar. I believe he's the same feller that you tried to stalk yesterday, an' that he's laughin' at you. He's a good mile away, but I kin see the twinkle in his eye, an' ez shore ez I stan' here he lifted his left foot to his nose an' twisted it 'bout in a gesture which among us boys allers meant fight. Do you stan' his dare, young William, or are you goin' to climb over thar whar he is an' hev it out with him?"
"I'll let him alone," laughed William, looking at the splendid ram, outlined so sharply in the clear mountain light. "I meant to do him harm, but I'm glad I didn't. Maybe that Indian was engaged in the same task, when he saw me and changed his hunting."
Then he shuddered once more at the growling he had heard and what he had seen in the bushes the next morning, but his feeling of horror did not last long, because they were now climbing well upon the shoulder of the White Dome and the spectacle, magnificent and inspiring, claimed all their attention.
The last bushes and dwarfed vegetation disappeared. Before them rose terrace on terrace, slope on slope of rock, golden or red in the sun, and beyond them the great snow fields and the glaciers. Over it all towered the White Dome, round and pure, the finest mountain Will had ever seen. He never again saw anything that made a more deep and solemn impression upon him. Far above all the strife and trouble of the world swam the white peak.
Meanwhile the Little Giant continued to whistle merrily. He was not awed, and he was not solemn. Prone to see the best in everything, he enjoyed the magnificent panorama outspread before them, and also drew from it arguments most favorable for their quest.
"We're absolutely safe from the warriors," he said. "We're above the timber line, and they'd never come up here huntin'. An Indian doesn't do anythin' more than he has to. He ain't goin' to wear hisself out climbin' to the top o' a mounting ten miles high in order to hev a look at the scenery. We won't be troubled by no warriors 'til we go down the shoulder o' your White Dome on the other side."
He resumed his clear, musical whistling, pouring out in a most wonderful manner the strains of "Dixie," changing impartially to "Yankee Doodle," shifting back to "The Bonnie Blue Flag," and then, with the same lack of prejudice, careering into "Marching Through Georgia."
The horses and mules that they were now leading felt the uplifting influence, raised their heads and marched forward more sturdily.
"What makes you so happy?" asked Will.
"The kindness o' natur' what gave me that kind o' a disposition," replied the Little Giant, "an' added to it the feelin' that all the time I'm drawin' closer to my gold. What did you say my share would be, young William, a matter o' a million or a half million?"
"A quarter of a million."
"Seems to me it wuz a half million, but somehow it grows ez we go 'long. When you git rich, even in the mind, you keep on gittin' richer."
Then he began to whistle a gallant battle stave with extraordinary richness and variety of tone, and when he had finished Will asked:
"What was that song, Tom? It's a new one to me."
"It's new to most people," replied the Little Giant, "but it's old jest the same. It wuz writ 'way back in the last war with England, an' I'll quote you the first two verses, words an' grammar both correct:
"Britannia's gallant streamers
Float proudly o'er the tide,
And fairly wave Columbia's stripes
In battle side by side,
And ne'er did bolder seamen meet
Where ocean surges pour
O'er the tide now they ride
While the bell'wing thunders roar
While the cannon's fire is flashing fast
And the bell'wing thunders roar.
"When Yankee meets the Briton
Whose blood congenial flows,
By Heaven created to be friends
By fortune reckoned foes:
Hard then must be the battle fray
E'er well the fight is o'er,
Now they ride, side by side,
While the bell'wing thunders roar,
While the cannon's fire is flashing fast
And the bell'wing thunders roar.
"That's a lot more verses, young William, an' it's all 'bout them great naval duels o' the war o' 1812, an' you'll notice that whoever writ 'em had no ill feelin' in his natur', an' give heaps o' credit to the British. It does seem that we an' the British ought to be friends, bein' so close kin, actin' so much alike, an' havin' institutions just the same, 'cept that whar they hev a king we hev a president. Yet here we are quarrelin' with 'em a lot, though not more than they quarrel with us."
"The trouble lies in the fact that we speak the same language," said Will. "Every word of abuse spoken by one is understood by the other. Now, if the French or the Spanish or the Russians denounce us we never hear anything about it, don't know even that it's been done."
"That's good ez fur ez it goes," said the Little Giant. "I've seen a lot o' English that don't speak any English, a-tall, fellers that come out o' the minin' regions in England an' some from London, too, that talked a lingo soundin' ez much like English ez Sioux does, but it doesn't alter the fact that them an' us ought to be friends. An' I reckon we will be now, 'cause I hear they're claimin' that our Washington wuz an Englishman, the same immortal George that they would hev hung in the Revolution along with his little hatchet, too, ef they could hev caught him."
Will laughed with relish.
"In a way Washington was an Englishman," he said. "That is, he was of pure English stock, transplanted to another land. The Athenians were Greeks, the most famous of the Greeks, but they were not the oldest of the Greeks by any means. They were a colony from Asia Minor, just as we were a colony from England."
"I don't know much 'bout the Greeks, young William, my lad, but ef the English kin lay claim to Washington ez one o' their sons, 'cause he wuz of pure English blood, then me an' most o' the Americans kin lay jest ez good a claim to Shakespeare 'cause, we bein' o' pure British blood, he wuz one o' our ancestors."
"Your claim is perfectly good, Giant. By and by, both Washington and Shakespeare will belong to the whole English-speaking world."
"Its proudest ornyments, so to speak. Now, that bein' settled, I'd like to go back to a p'int that troubles me."
"If I can help call on me."
"It's 'bout that song I wuz jest singin'. At the last line o' each verse it says: 'An' the bell'wing thunders roar.' I've thought it over a heap o' times, but I've never rightly made out what a bell'wing thunder is. Thar ain't nothin' 'bout thunder that reminds me o' bells. Now what is it, young William?"
Will began to laugh.
"What do you find so funny?" asked the Little Giant suspiciously.
"Nothing at all! Nothing at all!" replied Will hastily. "'Bell'wing' is bellowing. The writer meant the bellowing thunders, and it's cut off to bell'wing for the sake of rhyme and metre, a poetical liberty, so to speak. You see, poets have liberties denied to other people."
"Wa'al, I reckon they need a few. All that I ever seed did. But I'm mighty glad the p'int hez been settled. It's been botherin' me fur years. Thank you, young William."
"I think now," said Boyd, "that we'd better be looking for a camp."
"Among all these canyons and valleys," said Will, "it shouldn't be hard to find a suitable place."
Canyons were too abundant for easy traveling, and finding a fairly level though narrow place in one of the deepest, they pitched camp there, building a fire with wood which they had added to their packs for this purpose, and feeding to the animals grass which they had cut on the lower slopes. With the warm food and the fire it was not so bad, although the wind began to whistle fiercely far above their heads. The animals hovered near the fire for warmth, looking to the human beings who guided them for protection.
"I think we shall pass the highest point of our journey tomorrow," said Brady, "and then for the descent along the shoulder of the White Dome. Truly the stars have fought for us and I cannot believe that, after having escaped so many perils, we will succumb to others to come."
"O' course we won't," said the Little Giant cheerfully, "an' all the dangers we've passed through will make our gold all the more to us. Things ain't much to you 'less you earn 'em. When I git my million, which is to be my share o' that mine, I'll feel like I earned it."
"A quarter of a million, Tom," laughed Will. "You're getting avaricious as we go on. You raised it to a half million and now you make it a million."
"It does look ez ef my fancy grew more heated the nearer we come to the gold. I do hev big expectations fur a feller that never found a speck of it. How that wind does howl! Do you think, young William, that a glacier is comin' right squar' down on us?"
"No, Tom. Glaciers, like tortoises, move slowly. We'll have time to get out of the way of any glacier. It's easy to outrun the fastest one on the globe."
"I've heard tell that the earth was mostly covered with 'em once. Is that so?"
"They say there was an Ice Age fifty thousand or so years ago, when everything that lived had to huddle along the equator. I don't vouch for it. I'm merely telling what the scholars tell."
"I'll take your word for it, young William, an' all the same I'm glad I didn't live then. Think o' bein' froze to death all your life. Ez it is I'm ez cold ez I keer to be, layin' here right now in this canyon."
"If we were not hunting for gold," said Brady, "I'd try to climb to the top of this mountain. I take it to be close on to fourteen thousand feet in height and I often feel the ambition of the explorer. Perhaps that's why I've been willing to search so long and in vain for the great beaver horde. I find so many interesting things by the way, lakes, rivers, mountains, valleys, game, hot springs, noble forests and many other things that help to make up a splendid world. It's worth while for a man like me, without any ties, just to wander up and down the face of the earth."
"Do you know anything about the country beyond the White Dome?" asked Will.
"Very little, except that it slopes down rapidly to a much lower range of mountains, mostly forested, then to hills, forested also, and after that we have the great plains again."
"Now you've talked enough, young William," said the Little Giant. "It's time for you to sleep, but ez this is goin' to be a mighty cold night up here, fifteen or twenty miles 'bove the clouds, I reckon we'd better git blankets, an' wrap up the hosses an' mules too."
Having enough to go around they tied one blanket around the body of every animal, and Will was the most proficient in the task.
"It's 'cause they help him an' they don't help us," said the Little Giant. "Seein' that you've got such a touch with animals we're goin' to use you the next time we meet a grizzly bear. 'Stead o' wastin' bullets on him an' runnin' the chance o' some o' us gittin' hurt, we'll jest send you forrard to talk to him an' say, 'Ephraim! Old Eph, kindly move out o' the path. You're obstructin' some good men an' scarin' some good hosses an' mules.' Then he'll go right away."
Despite their jesting they pitched the camp for that critical night with the greatest care, making sure that they had the most sheltered place in the canyon, and ranging the horses and mules almost by the side of them. More clothing was brought from the packs and every man was wrapped up like a mummy, the fur coats they had made for themselves proving the best protection. Although the manifold wrappings kept Will's blood warm in his veins, the night itself and their situation created upon his mind the effect of intense cold.
The wind rose all the time, as if it were determined to blow away the side of the mountain, and it howled and shrieked over their heads in all the keys of terror. None of them could sleep for a long time.
"It's real skeery," said the Little Giant. "Mebbe nobody hez ever been up here so high before, an' this old giant of a mountain don't like our settin' here on his neck. I've seen a lot o' the big peaks in the Rockies, w'arin' thar white hats o' snow, an' they allers 'pear to me to be alive, lookin' down so solemn an' sometimes so threatenin'. Hark to that, will you! I know it wuz jest the screamin' o' the wind, but it sounded to me like the howlin' o' a thousand demons. Are you shore, young William, that thar ain't imps an' critters o' that kind on the tops o' high mountings, waitin' fur innocent fellers like us?"
Will slept at last, but the mind that can remain troubled and uneasy through sleep awoke him several times in the course of the night, and always he heard the fierce, threatening blasts shrieking and howling over the mountain. His eyes yet heavy with sleep, it seemed to him in spite of himself that there must be something in the Little Giant's suggestion that imps and demons on the great peaks resented their presence. He knew that it could not be true, but he felt as if it were, and once he rose all swathed in many garments and stroked the noses of the horses and mules, which were moving uneasily and showing other signs of alarm.
Dawn came, clear, with the wind not so high, but icily cold. They fed the last of the little store of hay to the animals, ate cold food themselves, and then crept out of the canyon, leading their horses and mules with the most extreme care, a care that nevertheless would have been in vain had not all the beasts been trained to mountain climbing. It was a most perilous day, but the next night found them so far down on the western slope of the White Dome that they had reached the timber line again.
The trees were dwarfed and scraggly, but they were trees just the same, affording shelter from wind and cold, and fuel for a fire, which the travelers built, providing themselves once more with warm food and coffee as sizzling hot as they could stand it. The animals found a little solace for their hunger by chewing on the tenderest parts of the bushes.
