same, them Injuns ain’t mussed up the scenery none scand’lus with their road buildin’.”
The tiny valley narrowed and the way became steeper and rougher. Sodden snow lay in sheltered nooks and gashes, through which the three were forced to wallow to the thighs. The air grew perceptibly colder and, except for stunted evergreen growths, vegetation disappeared.
It was well toward evening when a sudden turn of the narrow ravine revealed sight of the divide; or pass—a jagged notch that cut clean and sharp upon the dimming sky line. Ick Far crept ahead to reconnoitre, while Connie and McKeever snatched a moment’s rest.
“Some pass, kid. What ails old Gay an’ Festive?” Even as the Sergeant spoke, Ick Far’s rifle barked sharply. A second or two of silence, and it barked again—and this time there was no silence! From the scrub in front, and a little to the right of the narrow, rock-, and ice-strewn trail, came a quick, surprised grunt, followed by a roar of mingled pain and rage that rolled and reverberated through the narrow valley.
The next moment, with a scattering of loose stones and a crashing of scrub trees, the form of a
