CHAPTER XIV--Up the Divide in a Rain, With a Lost Horse On the Way,and a Howling Snow-Storm At the Top
Joe was still sleepy when the Ranger shook him by the shoulder.
"Get up," said Mills. "We're in for a rain before night, sure. I want toget as far as we can before it begins. Get breakfast, and put up somestuff handy for lunch, so you can get it without unpacking."
Joe crawled out into a new, strange world. For the first time since he'dbeen in the Park it was not a clear day. The clouds hung low, way downover the tops and sides of the mountains, gray, dull clouds, withghostly strings of vapor moving around on the under side. Sperry Glacierwas invisible, and the vapors were half-way down the wall where thegoats had been. Here, in the deep bowl of Avalanche Basin, with itstowering, precipitous sides, the result was that Joe felt exactly as ifhe were shut in down at the bottom of a huge well, a well with a graysmoke cover over it. Even the bright green water of the little lake,without any sunlight, had turned a dull, chalky green, and lookedominous and unreal, as if you would catch dead fish in it.
"I don't like this--I feel as if I were in a prison," he said to theRanger, as he kindled his fire.
"You may like it less before we get to Granite Park," Mills answered."Put your poncho over your saddle to-day--you're going to need it."
Then he woke the camp.
Everybody felt more or less as Joe did, and breakfast was curiouslyquiet. Even Bob stopped his gay chatter. They got an early start, andwere soon down on the main trail beside McDonald Creek, and pluggingnorth through the deep forest of pines, larches and Englemann spruce. Itwas dull, monotonous work, with no view at all, for when there was anopening in the woods, all they could see was a cliff wall going up intothe gray cloud overhead, which shut down over them like a roof. Mileafter mile they went, now and then Bob or the girls starting a song, butsoon stopping it. The trail was wet and muddy underfoot, and there weresome fallen trees to jump. Moreover, the packhorses were, for somereason, particularly badly behaved that day, and Joe and Val nearly losttheir tempers a dozen times as they rode into the brush, to head offsome packhorse which was trying to get out of line.
When they stopped for lunch, it had already begun to drizzle. Joe madecoffee, and passed out the usual collection of food for a CharlieChaplin sandwich. By the time lunch was eaten, the drizzle had settleddown into a misty rain, and the trees had begun to drip. Then everybodyrealized why they had been carrying around slickers on their saddles. Onwent these slickers--long, yellow rubber coats such as are worn by theGloucester fishermen. They fitted the men all right, but poor Lucy andAlice were completely enveloped, with the sleeves coming down over theirhands. Joe put his head through the hole in his poncho--and that was allright till he came to mount his horse. Then he discovered that a ponchois decidedly not the thing for horseback riding, for his knees and legskept coming out from under, on either side, and as the trees and busheswere soon dripping wet, and the rain kept falling, he was speedilysoaked almost to the waist. It grew colder, too. But there was nothingto do but plod on, through the wet, miry trail.
However, very soon after lunch, the trail suddenly left the canyon, andheaded east right up the side wall, to Swift Current Pass.
"Less than three miles to camp," Mills called back; "and three thousandfeet to climb," he added.
"Three thousand feet in less than three miles," Joe reflected. "Let'ssee, Mount Lafayette in the White Mountains is fifty-two hundred feethigh, and the trail starts from the Profile House, which is nineteenhundred feet up. That makes only thirty-three hundred feet, and thetrail is five miles long."
Then Joe thought of that trail, which he had climbed only two summersbefore, and how steep it was, and whistled to himself.
"We're in for it," he thought.
And he was right. Ordinarily, this trail, while it is steep and not wellgraded or maintained, is easy enough for a Rocky Mountain horse; butnow, with the rain pouring down, it was converted into a regular brookin places, and in other places, where the rocks were bare or mossy, itwas slippery as ice.
"Everybody off, and take hold of the tails of your horses," Millsfinally ordered, after two horses had almost slipped off.
"I can't walk up here! What do you think I hired this horse for?" Mrs.Jones demanded.
"Well, your horse can't walk up here with you on him," the Rangerreplied. "I'm not responsible for the weather. You'll have to walk, orbreak your neck."
And Joe could see he wanted to add--"I don't care which."
Bob and the girls grabbed their horses by the tails, and scrambled uprapidly to the next easy stretch, but their fathers and mothers climbedup more slowly, while Mills drove up the horses. Then Dick, Val and Joedrove up the packhorses, which, of course, couldn't be unloaded, and hada hard time. All of them were up but two, and they were breathingeasier, when the next to the last horse, on a slippery ledge, bumped hispack against the upper wall, slipped out toward the edge, pawed madlywith his hoofs, got no grip on the skin of wet, slimy moss and mud whichcovered the rock, and went over backward, with a wild whinny, andstaring, frightened eyes.
Fortunately, it was not straight down here, only a very steep slope, andtwenty feet below was a thick tangle of scrub pine and tall huckleberrybushes. The poor horse tipped over on his back, turned a complete doublesomersault, and landed crash against the pines, where he lay strugglingto get on his feet again. Joe, Val, Dick and Mills all dashed down tohim, and one held his head while the rest got the pack off his back. Hegot up on his feet, trembling, and the Ranger and Dick felt him allover.
"I guess the pack saved him, at that," Mills said. "He fell on theblankets. Well, boys, haul the stuff up."
They each took part of the load, and carried it to the level above,while the Ranger led up the poor, frightened horse. At the top the partywas waiting, huddled in the rain. They were a sorry and comical lookinglot, and though Joe's own feet were soaked, and he was wet to the skinbelow the hips, and he was cold, he certainly wanted to laugh. Water wasdripping from the women's hair, Mrs. Jones' face looked blacker than theclouds which hung in the trees just above her, Mrs. Elkins looked as ifshe was about to cry any minute, Mr. Elkins simply looked wet and coldand mad, and Alice and Lucy, almost buried in their enormous slickers,were trying to sing to keep up their courage. Only Bob was stillcheerful. He was eating wet huckleberries--wet and half green.
It was a nasty, wet job getting the pack on again, and Mills sent theparty on ahead, with Dick to guide them. But the Granite Park chalet wasnot far away. They were over the worst of the trail. In another halfhour, after crossing a meadow which was now full of running brooks, andclimbing up a last steep pitch, Joe suddenly saw the chalet emerge fromthe heavy cloud, as if a picture of Switzerland in his old schoolgeography had popped out of a fog right over his head. Built partly ofstone and partly of rough timber, exactly in the style of a Swisschalet, this building was about the size of an ordinary house. Joe knewby the map that it was almost up to the top of Swift Current Pass, justbelow the Great Divide, but you could not have told it now. The cloudswere swirling all around, and it was already so cold that the rain wasbeginning to freeze as fast as it hit, making a thin skin of ice on therocks.
Unpacking the horses, and getting the packs piled under the shelter ofthe porch, and then taking the horses to a rough stable near by, wasdone in a hurry. The three men then dove into the kitchen door, into thewarmth of the fire which roared in a red hot stove.
In the big front room there was another stove roaring, and around thatthe party were already huddled, waiting for their dunnage bags, to getout dry clothes. Joe and Dick brought the bags in, and each one went toa room up-stairs to change. Joe himself had dry underclothes, socks, anda pair of shoes, but he had no extra trousers. He and the cowboys andMills changed as much as they could in the kitchen, but Joe had to puthis wet trousers on again. When Lucy came down, in a skirt and dryshoes, she saw this at once.
"Oh, Joe, you _must_ get some dry trousers," she said. "You mustn't runsuch a risk."
Joe laughed. "Oh, I'm all right," he said. "Won't hurt me--I've beenexercising."
"But you're not exercising now. I'm going to fix you."
She went over and spoke to the manager in charge of the chalet; henodded, and went into the little room where he slept, emerging with apair of his own trousers. As he was some six inches larger around themiddle than Joe, everybody laughed, and they laughed more when Joereappeared, with the trousers on.
"Say, Joe, you'll need some supper to fill them!" Bob cried.
"Never mind," said Lucy. "They are dry."
The chalet now smelled of drying clothes and drying leather. Over bothstoves hung stockings and trousers and even underclothes, and behindthem stood rows of boots. Outside, the wind was howling and shaking theentire house with every gust. It was almost as dark as if it had beenevening, though it was only five o'clock, and Bob, peering through thesteamed window pane, suddenly cried, "Hi! look quick--snow!" and openedthe front door to dash out.
As he lifted the latch, the wind caught the door and blew it wide open,a great gust of snow swirling in, half across the room.
"Say, is this August first or January first?" Mr. Elkins demanded. "Ithought we came to a summer resort, not Greenland."
"Our mountains are just showing off for you a bit," Mills smiled, as theyoung people and Joe, in spite of the gale, went out on the porch to seethe snow-storm driving past.
But they were soon driven in, blowing on their fingers, and brushing thesnow off their clothes.
"The man who built this old shack right here gets my vote," Bobdeclared. "Say, ma, how'd you like to be on your prancing steed rightnow, up on top of the Pass, still seven miles from blighty? Eh, wot?"
"Thanks," said Mrs. Jones. "I prefer it here."
"I know!" Lucy said. "Let's have afternoon tea."
"All those in favor say aye--the ayes have it--it's a vote--Joe, go toit," cried Bob. "That's the way they put a bill through in dad's oldCongress--just like that."
Joe got out the tea and the cups, and with Alice and Lucy helping, theysoon had hot tea on the table, and a big plate of crackers, and a lot ofsweet chocolate Mr. Jones bought at the little counter by the manager'sdesk.
"Let the wild winds howl; what do we care for your old Augustblizzards?" said Bob, as he passed his cup to Joe for a second helping.
When tea was over, Joe set about cooking a good, hot dinner, for he hada real stove to work with now, and an oven. He mixed dough for hotbiscuit, got out eggs for omelettes, tins of soups, made a batter forgriddle cakes, and opened his last can of preserved peaches for dessert.
While he was working, with Val sitting in a corner, telling him storiesabout broncho busting, there came a sudden stamping of feet on the porchoutside, the door opened, and two men, covered with snow, with heavypacks on their backs, almost fell into the kitchen.
Val sprang up and caught one of them as he staggered and was about totumble. Mills and the manager of the chalet came hurrying in from thefront room. Joe jumped to his stove and poured boiling water on somefresh tea leaves.
While the others were getting the two men into chairs, and pulling offtheir soaked clothes, Joe steeped his tea, and brought each of them abig tin mug full. They swallowed it eagerly, and brightened up. Theychanged into dry clothes, supplied partly from their own packs andpartly from the manager's wardrobe. "You see," the man said, "I keep oldclothes here for just such emergencies."
They were from a mid-western city, and had come to Glacier for avacation. Being fond of walking, and also wanting to do the Park ascheaply as they could, they had decided to hike from point to point.They had already come over Piegan Pass from the south, and stopped lastnight at the tepee camp at Many Glacier. To-day they had first visitedIceberg Lake, and then, in spite of the threatened rain (it had notrained till long after noon on the east side of the Divide, they said),they had climbed Swift Current Pass, headed for this chalet. They hadrun into the heavy cloud near the top of the Pass, but did not expectany trouble in finding their way, because the trail is well marked bycountless horses. But in the Pass meadow they got the full force of thestorm, where the snow hit them, and before they got across, the trackwas obliterated; the cloud was so dense they could not see fifty feetahead, and they were almost benumbed with the cold. However, theycontinued to pick up trail marks here and there, and stumbled downfinally till they saw the chalet looming up under the cloud mantle.
"We never expected anything like this, in mid-summer," one of them said,"or, of course, we wouldn't have climbed the Pass to-day."
"You wouldn't get it once in five years," Mills answered,--"but there'salways a time, you know. That's why the chalet's here."
The two men were so tired that Joe's party offered to share dinner withthem, relieving them of the task of cooking, since the regular cookemployed by the chalet had deserted the day before and all guests nowhad to shift for themselves. It was quite a party that sat down totable, with Val as waiter and Joe turning the omelettes and tossing thegriddle cakes on the stove. They ate by the light of a lamp, though upthere, ordinarily, at seven o'clock it would have been bright daylight.Outside the wind howled, the snow flew, and the house shook as if hit bya giant fist as each gust struck it
But suddenly, as Joe was dishing out the canned peaches in the kitchen,he heard a cry from Bob.
"Hi, look--it's getting light--oh, gee, folks--come quick!"
When Joe came into the room with what dishes Val could not carry, hefound every one up from the table and crowded at the west windows. Thelamplight had paled. Into the windows was pouring the last rays of thesetting sun, over behind the Livingston Range, the other side of thecanyon. These rays came out of a great, blue hole in the wall of clouds,and seemed to stream like a vast search-light along the under side ofthe cloud wrack overhead. They pierced right through the falling snow,which turned to a dancing, dazzling veil of golden crystals between thewindows and the sun. And, against the hole into the west, stood up thesnow-crowned pyramid of Trapper's Peak, while, to the south, justemerging from the clouds, its great snow-fields tinged with sunset aswith blood and gold, rose the beautiful cone of Heaven's Peak, shining,mysterious, magnificent.
"Dessert--peaches," said Val.
"Go 'way," said Alice. "This is better than any dessert. Oh, I'm goingout!"
Peaches were forgotten--everything was forgotten. Every one piled out onthe west porch and watched the wonderful display. Now the low sun wasshooting a great rainbow up on the under side of the cloud right overthe Divide. One end of this rainbow dropped down past the steep cliff ofthe Divide south of the Pass, known as the Garden Wall, and ended in apatch of snow.
"Hi--Joe, let's go down and get the pot o' gold," Bob called. "I can seejust where it is."
"I would, if I had on my own pants," Joe laughed.
As if to finish off the display with a pretty touch, the snow stoppedfalling, so they could see plainly all the white slopes around the camp,and suddenly a deer bounded out from behind a pine thicket, circled allaround below them, and disappeared at last to the north.
The sun dropped, leaving a green and pink hole in the west, enlargingevery moment. The clouds were lifting. It was still cold, however, andthe wind was howling. The crowd went in reluctantly, blew on theirfingers, and finished their dinner.
Some one proposed games after the dinner was cleared away. Some one elseproposed a story. But Bob proposed bed, and after some debate, hismotion prevailed, chiefly, his father declared, because every one on theopposition side was yawning so that he could not argue.
"Are you all right? You haven't got a cold, have you?" Lucy asked Joe,as she said good-night.
"No, I feel fine," Joe answered.
He did, too, and went to sleep, rolled in his blankets on the kitchenfloor, thinking of the girl--or the woman, he hardly knew which to callher--who was so thoughtful and kind.
"This is a pretty good old world, and pretty nice folks in it," was hislast reflection, before he dropped asleep, with Dick on one s
ide, andVal on the other, while the wind was still shaking the chalet.