Kitabı oku: «Girl Scouts in the Rockies», sayfa 9
CHAPTER TWELVE – LOST IN A BLIZZARD
It was early dawn but such dark clouds obscured everything that the scouts thought it still was night.
“Bad storm blowin’, Mees’r Gilloy. Us hurry down f’om here,” said Tally, anxiously.
“All right – all up, and hurry away!” shouted Mr. Gilroy, running for the horses, to help Omney saddle them for the ride.
Soon thereafter, without stopping to attend to any of their customary toilets, the scouts were in the saddles and quickly following the guides down the trail on the opposite side from that they had mounted the day before.
The blackness was now so thick that it was difficult to see any one ten feet ahead, and the girls could not see the trail at all. Then Tally suddenly shouted a warning to those behind him.
“Huddle togedder – blizzer comin’ down now!”
And in a few seconds, an unexpected breaking of the clouds drove thick smothery, enveloping snow across the plateau. Even the heavy clouds seemed to choke everything in their folds. The wind, which blew a gale, uprooted trees and flicked them out of the way as if they were snips of paper. Gusts of the mad tornado tore off great masses of the dark clouds and, eddying them about, whirled the vapor out of them, away down the sides of the mountain. Trees, rocks, clods of earth, everything movable that presented an obstacle to the gale, was carried away like thistledown.
The poor horses and pack-mules crouched close together, with heads low, making of their bodies as scant a resistance as possible against the storm, and at the same time providing shelter, with their steaming bodies, for the human beings who huddled under them.
Then, as suddenly as the storm broke, it ceased. A weird light played over the plateau for a time, and Mr. Gilroy noted the worried expressions of the Indians.
“What now, Tally?”
“Us clim’ saddles, stick gedder an’ must get away!” shouted Tally, trying to be heard above the soughing of the wind, that was now blowing from behind the crag.
Even as the riders tried to get into the saddles and start after Tally, a chill filled the air. It crept into bones and marrow, and in a few minutes the full fury of the blizzard was felt. In less than five minutes after the first snow fell, everything was drifted under white blankets. The cold bit into human flesh like sharp points of steel, and it was certain that every one must get down from that altitude immediately or be frozen to death.
The Indians led the way, although they trusted their safety on these mountains entirely to the horses and their wonderful sense. The other riders tried to follow as closely as they could in the tracks made by the first two horses. Then as they descended further from the plateau, the storm abated and the temperature felt warmer, until they reached the place where dripping snow from all the tree branches and rocks thoroughly soaked the unfortunates.
The mountainside was cut up by ravines and gulches, or “draws” as they are called, made by erosion of mountain streams that came from the glacier on top of Flat Top.
From one of these draws the scouts could look down for miles to a place where it widened out through the velocity of the roaring waters and unearthed everything in its floods.
Here and there great pines had fallen across and formed natural bridges over the chasms. At other spots the roots or branches of a tree washed down, would catch in the débris of the sides of a draw, obstructing the way and holding up great masses of waste that accumulated rapidly about the twisted limbs, when the torrent washed everything against this comb, that caught the larger objects.
So the file of riders went carefully downward, on the watch for a favorable trail that might lead them to the valley. But every draw they found was so forbidding that they were repulsed from trying it. Some showed great rocks that might roll down at the slightest motion of the ground, and crush everything in their plunge. Even as they pondered the chance of going down one of these, the water caused by the melting snow loosened the grip of a great fragment of rock held up in the gorge, and down it crashed! Other draws displayed century-old snags, and down-timber that lay half-sunken in slimy ooze which trickled down from the mossy sides of the gully; these would suck in any horse or rider that was daring enough to try and go over them.
Finally, Tally came to a draw which was not nearly so forbidding as the others, but it was a very deep chasm, and sent up echoes of roaring water in its bottom.
“Wad yuh tink, Omney – do we try him?” asked Tally.
“Tally, it looks terrifying!” gasped Mrs. Vernon.
“Not so bad as udder ones,” remarked Tally.
“Must we go down any of them?” asked Mr. Vernon.
“Mebbe we not find trail for two – four day, and grub mos’ gone,” returned Tally, meaningly.
“We’ve got to trust to Tally’s guidance, pards, so let us do exactly as he thinks best,” added Mr. Gilroy.
Feeling somewhat dubious about the outcome of this ride, the two Indians led down the steep sides of the gulch. The horses slipped, stumbled, and scrambled through the piled-up rubbish until it was a marvel that they had not broken legs and necks. The débris carried down by the streams that emptied into the torrents at the bottom of the draw, formed almost impassable barriers to going onward. But the day was breaking, and this cheered every one tremendously. Soon the darkness would be entirely dispelled and they could see just where the horses were stepping.
“I’m so hungry I could almost eat this leather harness,” remarked Anne, sighing.
“Maybe we might catch something for an early breakfast, if we knew where to give our horses a stand while we hunted,” said Ruth.
Then, suddenly, they heard a crash of branches and rolling rocks, and there, outlined against the pale sky, stood a giant elk with head erect and ears attentive to the sounds from these riders. It was the first one the scouts had seen, and it was such a magnificent animal that a sight of it was thrilling.
The elk waited with great antlers reared to their extreme height, long sensitive nose sniffing the air, and legs stiffened ready for a leap. The Captain drew the camera from a side-pocket of the saddle and planned to get a picture. But the wary animal heard the click of the shutter and sprang fully fifteen feet across the chasm to gain a ledge of rock that hung dangerously out.
Every one gasped as he waited to see it miss footing, or roll down with the crag that surely would topple over with such added weight upon it. But the elk must have known its trail, for it lightly touched upon the rock, then vanished over the rim of the top.
“There goes our venison steaks for breakfast!” sighed Julie, making the others laugh in spite of their troubles.
The sides of the canyon near the bottom were filled with dangerous sink-holes, or bogs, that were a constant menace to the riders. For let a horse slip into one of these and he might be sucked down instantly. But the animals were sure-footed and accustomed to such rough traveling, and they instinctively avoided all soft soil. Ever and anon, a horse would slip on a rolling stone, or a hoof would break through rotten timber, so that the scouts were being constantly jolted one side or another.
Finally they found better going along a narrow ledge that looked like an old trail. But it began nowhere and ended – well, it terminated suddenly just ahead of Tally’s next step!
“Back! Back!” yelled Tally, dragging on the reins with all his might.
That effectually halted the others, who were so close behind him, and Mr. Vernon leaned over to ask, “What is it, Tally?”
“Big hole – she go down mebbe fifty feet to bottom. Gotta back out and go round nudder way.”
“Oh, mercy sakes! Back out all along this narrow ledge?” cried the scouts.
But while they spoke, Jolt passed them, going on the verge of the ledge, and causing every one to tremble for his life. When he was passing Tally, the guide shouted angrily, “Whoa! Whoa!”
But Jolt acted exactly like a sleep-walker does. He paid no attention to sight or sound, and in another moment he would have walked right over the edge of the precipice, had not Tally jumped from his saddle and caught hold of the guide rope that had been tied to his halter before entering the gully.
This slight hold, however, did not save the mule from disappearing over the verge of the cliff, and it almost yanked Tally over, too. The only thing that saved the guide was Omney, who jumped to assist his friend when Jolt went by. The rope was instantly wound about a tree stump and braced. Then Tally climbed warily to safety, before the loose shale should crumble in with his weight.
Every one had been speechless with horror a moment before, but now every one spoke with loosened tongue.
“The mule had all the food-stuffs,” said Anne.
“And the camp outfit as well,” added Mr. Vernon.
“Just think of the poor thing – down there crushed to bits,” wept Betty.
Some felt sorry for Jolt, and some felt sorry for themselves. Then Tally said, “Eef light scout crawl ober an’ tell what her see Jolt doin’, mebbe we save him.”
Betty was the lightest so she offered her services. She was tied securely to one of the ropes that hung on the saddle-horn, and Tally advised her what to do.
“Crawl to edge, look down. Tell what Jolt do, or eef he mashed in bottom!”
So Betty crept slowly over the shale and reached the edge of the ravine. She peered down, and the sunlight that shone through the trees just then, helped her to see plainly.
“Jolt’s standing on a wide ledge of rock about twenty feet lower than this one. His packs are gone – guess they tumbled down when the straps burst open. But there isn’t any spare room for him to exercise on,” reported Betty.
“Did you say he was standing upon his feet?” asked Mr. Gilroy, unbelievingly.
“Yes, with his head facing towards the outlet of this chasm. He hears me talking, ’cause I see him prick up his long ears.”
“Al’ light,” said Tally, joyfully. “Tell me, do ledge end in hole like dis-a-one do?”
“No, it looks as if it ran right down to the valley, Tally. I can see the sunlight down at the end, about a mile away.”
That caused great joy in each heart, and Tally said, “Al’light, now come back.”
So the scout crawled back, while Tally spoke with Omney and planned what to do. The result of this conversation was then apparent.
Tally tied a long rope to his own waist, and Omney began paying out the rope as the Indian went over the edge of the gulch. Every one held his breath to wait developments. Then they heard Tally shout, “Al’light – le’ go.”
“Now us back out – Tally ride Jolt down valley,” announced Omney.
“O Hominy! Do you think the mule is all right?” cried Ruth.
“Tally say so. Us go back now.” So back they went in every sense of the word – back along the ledge, and backwards all the way.
The horses climbed the rocky slope and went along the top-side of the chasm, but it was no better adapted for comfortable riding than the bottom had been. After an hour of dreadful jumps and jolts and slips, the riders came out to the valley that Betty had spoken of, at the end of the draw.
There stood Tally, grinning with good news. “Fine camp!”
“But where is Jolt?” demanded the scouts.
“Him dockered up wid bear-grease, bandages, an’ herb!’ laughed Tally, pointing to a place where they could see a mule taking things easy on the grass.
“Got packs out, Tally?” asked Omney.
“Us go in get ’em now, Omney. Scouts make camp an’ we come back wid grub, pooty soon.”
So the two guides rode in through the chasm again, along the bottom beside the river, and the scouts rode on to make camp where Tally had directed them.
There the scouts found one of the most interesting shelters of all on that camping-trip. It was discovered under the wide overspreading boughs of a clump of firs which had so grown that a perfectly clear and covered area in the center provided a Nature-made house.
While Ruth and Betty were ordered to clean up the sticks and stones on the ground under the trees, the other girls gathered balsam and made the beds. The two men went to fish, and the Captain built a good fire to cook the combination breakfast and dinner, as it was now long past noon.
Tally and Omney came back after a long absence, but they had the packs, a little the worse for the fall, to be sure.
“I see this is the last can of soup and our last can of beans,” ventured Mrs. Vernon, when she opened the food-pack.
“Um! Us know rancher – plenty grub in him lodge,” said Tally, significantly. Everybody laughed at his wink that accompanied the words.
The ride from Flat Top had been so strenuous that the scouts camped that night in the fir-tree lodge, as they had called it. All retired early, as they hoped to make a start at dawn in order to reach the rancher’s, where Tally said he could buy a stock of food.
But a number of timber wolves howled about the camp all the night through, keeping the tired travelers half-awake. Towards dawn they must have followed another scent, as all was quiet in the forests thereafter.
The Captain was startled out of a sound sleep by a strange “s-swish” – close to her ear. Springing up with the remembrance of the wolves, she heard Tally whisper through the pine-boughs, “Tell scout come see caribou in valley.”
In a few moments every one was up and out of the tree-lodge. The scouts saw the men crouching down behind a large boulder that stood near the verge of a steep descent to the green valley below. The curious girls soon joined them and then witnessed a most unusual sight.
Down in the valley, several hundred yards away, was a herd of caribou grazing on the juicy grass. A fine buck with antlers spreading far from each side of his head, jumped about as if worked by springs. If a cow got in his way he stamped his polished hoofs and threatened her with his flattened horns.
But the cows seemed not to mind such idle threats on the part of the bull, and continued grazing.
Julie laughed. “They’re suffrage caribou – they know how a male talks fine but seldom does what he brags about!”
This started an animated argument between Mr. Gilroy and the Scout Leader, which was suddenly hushed by the behavior of the buck. He lifted his nose, sniffed angrily and stamped his hoof in token that he resented any interference with his family’s breakfast.
“What’s the matter with him?” asked Joan in a whisper.
“Maybe he scented human beings watching him,” suggested Anne.
Tally shook his head, but in another moment the scouts learned what had caused his annoyance. He now sounded a warning to the cows, and they all lifted their heads instantly and sniffed as the buck had done.
“Dear me, I hope they won’t run away,” wished Ruth, and then she saw that they would not run – they would defend themselves.
From out the dark fringe of forest there now crept a number of lean hungry timber-wolves, looking like long grey shadows of the trees. So slowly and noiselessly did they move that only animals trained to defend themselves in the wilderness would have known an enemy was so close at hand.
As they moved, the four men silently lifted their rifles, and waited for the signal from Tally to shoot.
“Are those the wolves we heard last night?” asked Julie.
“Most likely, or some like them,” returned Mr. Gilroy, in a whisper that only those next him could hear.
“Um! t’ree of ’em – get reward fur dem coyotes!” grinned Omney.
The caribou, warned in time by the bull, saw the skulking beasts creeping, creeping like the shadows towards them, and they instantly formed their defence, as they always do in case of extreme danger when it is wiser to fight than to fly.
With their hind legs closed together like the center of a wheel, and their heads presenting antlers pointing towards the enemy like bayonets on the defence line in a battle, the herd stood perfectly still and waited.
“Wonderful sight!” breathed Mrs. Vernon.
“Oh, for that camera! It is in the duffel-bag,” sighed Julie.
But the scene now grew too exciting for any scout to yearn over forgotten kodaks, for the wolves were almost near enough to begin their raid. The four rifles still pointed directly at them, but the signal was not yet forthcoming. Tally knew when to fire.
Just as the foremost wolf rose on his hind legs to hurl himself at the caribou nearest him, and the bull bellowed madly and wheeled to attack, Tally signaled. Four spurts of blue and four streaks of red – and three timber wolves rolled over dead!
At the sound of those dire sounds which the bull understood to be as deadly as a wolf, he lifted his snout high in the air, called hastily to his herd, and the wheel broke – the caribou trotted away swiftly and disappeared in the forest.
“That certainly was a sight worth seeing,” sighed the Captain. “But I must hang that camera about my neck, day in and day out, or I shall miss the best pictures every time.”
At breakfast that morning Mr. Gilroy said, “I had planned to cross the Continental Divide at Milner’s Pass, because of the beauties of the Fall River Road, but this unexpected slide down from Flat Top yesterday, disarranged all these plans. What shall we do about it?”
“What was your next point of interest, had we gone over the pass as you had planned?” asked Mrs. Vernon.
“Well, you see, I thought we would land somewhere near Beaver Creek on the western slope of the Divide. I know a number of ranchers living about that section, and I thought the scouts might enjoy spending a week or so on these ranches.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Gilly, we’d rather enjoy the wildlife of the Rockies instead of ranching,” ventured Julie.
“Oh, it’s all the same. In fact, I’d rather not use any time on the ranches while I still have many interesting moraines to explore,” said he.
“Then we’ll plan a new route. What would you do next?” said the Captain.
“We are near the Meadow Fork of Grand River, I think, and we can follow that to reach Grand Lake. Then we can trail from there, along the North Fork of the Grand, until we reach Hot Sulphur Springs. After a visit to the Springs, we can go down Goré Canyon, cross the Goré Range, and thus reach Steamboat Springs.”
“All right, let’s do as you just said,” remarked Mr. Vernon.
“Tally give up Devil-Bear and timber wolves at Spring,” now said Tally.
“All right, Tally, but don’t you think the girls ought to share in the reward for the wolves? We helped shoot them,” said Mr. Gilroy.
“Um, sure! Scout git Devil-Bear money, too!” said Tally, amazed that any one should have thought otherwise.
“How so?” demanded Julie.
“Tally ’gree to guide, hunt, fish, help Mees’r Gilloy an’ scout all way frough summer. Devil-Bear kill in hunt, but Tally paid for time,” explained the Indian, thus refuting the reputation many white men give the Indian, that he will take advantage of other races every chance he gets.
“Oh, no, Tally! We wouldn’t think of such a division!” exclaimed the Captain. “Give us the pelts and you take the reward.”
As this suggestion was seconded by the others, Tally and Omney grinned joyously, for it was a windfall they had not looked for.
Further along the trail, Tally turned off to stop at a ranch-house and lay in a supply of flour and what other edibles the ranch-owner would sell him. Then they continued over the mountains.
Had the scouts come suddenly upon the Continental Divide they would have been speechless with the grandeur of it, but they had been riding past and over many peaks, canoeing down marvelous waterways, and had climbed all the ranges that led to the Divide, so that they scarcely realized that they were crossing the stupendous elevation until they heard Tally speak.
“Mos’ over now, foothills all way to Sulphur Springs.”
As they rode on, looking for Meadow Fork, along which Mr. Gilroy wished to trail, many questions were asked by the scouts and answered by the Indians.
Ruth then said, “I’ve heard a lot about Hot Sulphur Springs, Gilly, but what thrilling sight shall we find there?”
“Its name might lead you to believe you would see the apparition who is said to have charge of all sulphur worlds,” said Julie, giggling.
“Also you will have an opportunity to taste the nastiest drinking water he – Julie’s friend – ever sent bubbling forth,” added Mr. Gilroy, quickly.
“That friend and I had a falling out and now we are not on speaking terms!” retorted Julie, and the others laughed.
“Why stop there, then? Let’s go on to Goré’s Canyon, – that sounds awfully thrilling,” remarked Joan.
“Is it named Gory, Gilly, because so many Red Men scalped the early settlers out here?” asked Betty.
“Oh, no,” laughed Mr. Gilroy. “It is named after an Irish nobleman, Sir George Goré, who discovered the canyon while he and a party of friends were hunting big game in the Rockies many years ago, before folks went over the Divide. In those days it was considered a marvelous feat to go into the Rockies.”
“If every one can have a mountain named after them, why can’t I have one called ‘Juliet’s Peak’?” demanded the irrepressible scout.
“You can, if you like. That is the easiest part of all, but how will other tourists know that that particular peak is named for you?” laughed Mr. Gilroy.
“You’d have to advertise the fact by some wild adventure, or great patriotic deed,” added Mr. Vernon.
“Oh, I can advertise, all right!” retorted Julie. “I’ll take a great bucket of whitewash and a calcimine brush; then on every flat-faced rock along the trail, up one side and down the other, I’ll slap a hand-painted sign on every one of them: ‘This is Juliet’s Peak,’ and the finger in ghostly white will point to my peak.”
Her ridiculous explanation caused every one to laugh, but when Jolt turned and opened his jaw wide to emit the grating sound “Hee – haw! Hee – haw!” the riders declared it was screamingly opportune of the mule.
Late in the afternoon, the second day from Flat Top, the scouts had their first battle with a rattlesnake. It is claimed that one never sees a rattler on the east slope of the Rockies, – why, it is not stated. But one certainly encounters many of them on the west side and on other ranges in Colorado.
They were jogging along comfortably when Julie’s horse suddenly leaped aside and climbed a steep bank beside the trail. The other horses trembled, and instantly the warning rattle sounded. Tally hurried back and saw a huge reptile coiled at one side of the trail, half-hidden under a bush.
He jumped from the saddle and snapped a hickory stick from a young sapling nearby. Then he whipped the rattler over the back. He could not break its back as the bush fended the blows. But Omney and Tally could so tire the reptile with blows that kept its head swinging from side to side, that finally they might jump on it.
The scouts sat and watched this interesting fight, the rattler darting its forked tongue venomously at the sticks, and in so doing having to turn its head from one to the other. This defence kept it from uncoiling and gliding away. Neither could it spring from the coil to strike while its head was so busy.
At last it showed signs of weariness, and once, when it momentarily forgot to strike at Tally’s whip but struck twice in succession at the stick Omney wielded, the former took instant advantage of it, and in another moment his heel was planted upon the flat head.
Then the guides dragged the sinuous reptile out and measured it. It was fully five feet long, from head to tip of tail where ten rattles were attached. Tally removed these, and with a bow presented them to the Captain, – an honor shown all Tenderfeet in the Rockies, if a rattler is encountered by the natives.
“Him make fine money book, er belt,” suggested Omney, when the scouts shuddered at the diamond-backed rattler.
“Oh, yes, we must send the skin home to be cured and made into souvenirs, girls!” exclaimed Mr. Gilroy.
In vain did the riders look for other rattlers after that, for every one wanted every skin that could be gotten for souvenirs.
Mr. Gilroy rode along, watching for the familiar landmarks that would tell him he had found Meadow Fork, but he finally admitted that he must have taken the wrong turn back by the ranch.
They rode past lovely streams and camped beside a most enchanting lake, then on, alongside a fine river, but Mr. Gilroy did not find his Meadow Fork or Grand Lake.
Finally, from the summit of one of the lower peaks on the western slope of the Rockies, the scouts saw a valley spread out before them, and concentrated in one spot of this valley were numerous dots, that were dwelling-houses, together with several large ones, that denoted they were hotels.
Mr. Gilroy rubbed his eyes, then stared. “Now, if I did not know better, I’d swear that that was Sulphur Springs.”
“’Tis Sp’ings,” chuckled Tally.
“But, Tally, it can’t be! We haven’t found Meadow Fork or Grand River, yet! Have we trailed along some other way?” wondered Mr. Gilroy.
The town proved to be the Springs, and there Mr. Gilroy learned that he had been riding along Meadow Fork, had camped at Grand Lake, and then followed Grand River, without knowing it. This error in judgment gave the scouts a never-ending chance for teasing him, thereafter.
That night the horses, as well as their riders, were glad to stretch out upon comfortable town-made beds, and in the morning the breakfast was already provided for all, instead of their having to first gather it.
The first thing the guides did after breakfast was to cash in their reward for Devil-Bear. The skin proved their claim, and word instantly circulated that two Indians had killed the menace of the ranches. The scouts received the reward for the tongues of the timber-wolves which Tally had brought into town, and thus the scouting party soon found fame camping on their doorstep. The local papers made much of them, and the girls took a keen delight in mailing home copies of the papers containing the account of their exploits.
