Boys of Crawford's Basin

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE SNOW-SLIDE

  The rain, which continued pretty steadily all day, Sunday, had ceasedbefore the following morning, when, looking through the rifts in theclouds to the west we could see that a quantity of new snow had fallenon the mountains.

  "There'll be no trouble about water for irrigating this year, Joe," saidI, as I returned from the stable after feeding the horses. "There's moresnow up there, I believe, than I've ever seen before. It ought to lastwell into the summer, especially as the winds have drifted the gulchesfull and it has settled into solid masses."

  "Yes, there ought to be a good supply," answered Joe, who was busycooking the breakfast. "Which of the ponies do you think I had bettertake this morning, Phil? The pinto?"

  "I thought so. I've given him a good feed of oats. He'll enjoy theouting, I expect, for he's feeling pretty chipper this morning. Hetried to nip me in the ribs while I was rubbing him down. He needs alittle exercise."

  We had arranged between us that Joe should ride to Sulphide that morningto see Tom Connor and Yetmore, as my father had directed; andaccordingly, as soon as he could get off, away he went; the pinto pony,very fresh and lively, going off as though he intended to gallop thewhole distance.

  Left to myself, I first went up to measure the flow of the undergroundstream, according to custom, and then, taking a shovel, I went to workclearing the headgates of our ditches, which had become more or lessencumbered with refuse during the winter. There were two of them, set inniches of the rock on either side of the pool; for, to irrigate the landon both sides of the creek, we necessarily had to have two ditches. Ihad been at it only a few minutes when I noticed a curious booming noisein the direction of the mountains, which, continuing for a minute ortwo, presently died out again. From my position close under the wall ofthe Second Mesa, I could see nothing, and though it seemed to me to be apeculiar and unusual sound, I concluded that it was only a stormgetting up; for, even at a distance of seven miles, we could often hearthe roaring of the wind in the pine-trees.

  A quarter of an hour later, happening to look up the Sulphide road, Iwas rather surprised to see a horseman coming down, riding very fast. Hewas about a mile away when I first caught sight of him, and I could notmake out who he was, but presently, as I stood watching, a slight bendin the road allowed the sunlight to fall upon the horse's side, when Irecognized the pinto. It was Joe coming home again.

  I knew very well, of course, that he could not have been all the way toSulphide and back in so short a time, and my first thought was that thespirited pony was running away with him; but as he approached I saw thatJoe was leaning forward in the saddle, rather urging forward his steedthan restraining him.

  "What's up?" I thought to myself, as I stood leaning on my shovel. "Hashe forgotten something? He seems to be in a desperate hurry if he has:Joe doesn't often push his horse like that. Something the matter, I'mafraid."

  There was a rather steep pitch where the road came down into our valley,and it was a regular practice with us to descend this hill with somecaution. Here, at any rate, I expected Joe to slacken his pace; but whenI saw him come flying down at full gallop, where a false step by thepony would endanger both their necks, I knew there was something thematter, and flinging down my shovel, I ran to meet him.

  "What is it, Joe?" I cried, as soon as he came within hearing.

  Pulling in his pony, which, poor beast, stood trembling, with hanginghead and legs astraddle, the breath coming in blasts from its scarletnostrils, Joe leaped to the ground, crying:

  "A snow-slide! A fearful great snow-slide! Right down on Peter's house!"

  For a moment we stood gazing at each other in silence, when Joe,speaking very rapidly, went on:

  "We must get up there at once, Phil: we may be able to help Peter.Though if he was in his house when the slide came down, I'm afraid wecan do nothing. His cabin must be buried five hundred feet deep, and theheavy snow will pack like ice with its own weight."

  "We'll take a couple of shovels, anyhow," I cried. "I'll get 'em. Pullyour saddle off the pinto, Joe, he's used up, poor fellow, and slap iton to the little gray. Saddle my pony, too, will you? I'll clap someprovisions into a bag and bring 'em along: there's no knowing how longwe'll be gone!"

  "All right," replied Joe. And without more words, he turned to unsaddlethe still panting pony, while I ran to the house.

  In five minutes, or less, we were under way.

  "Not too fast!" cried Joe. "We mustn't blow the ponies at the start.It's a good eight miles up to Peter's house."

  As we ascended the hill and came up on top of the Second Mesa, I wasable to see for the first time the great scar on the mountain where theslide had come down.

  "Phew!" I whistled. "It was a big one, and no mistake. Did you see itstart, Joe?"

  "Yes, I saw it start. I happened to be looking up there, thinking itlooked pretty dangerous, when a great mass of snow which was overhangingthat little cliff up there near the saddle, fell and started the wholething. It seemed to begin slowly. I could see three or four big patchesof snow fall from the precipice above Peter's cabin as though pushedover, and then the whole great mass, fifteen feet thick, I shouldthink, three hundred yards wide and four or five times as long, camedown with a rush, pouring over the cliff with a roar like thunder. Iwonder you didn't hear it."

  "I did," I replied, remembering the noise I had taken for a wind-storm,"but being under the bluff, and the waterfall making so much noise, Icouldn't hear distinctly, and so thought nothing of it. Why!" I cried,as I looked again. "There used to be a belt of trees running diagonallyacross the slope. They're all gone!"

  "Yes, every one of them. There were some biggish ones, too, youremember; but the slide snapped them off like so many carrots. It cut aclean swath right through them, as you see."

  "Where were you, Joe, when you saw it come down?" I asked.

  "More than half way to Sulphide. I came back in fifteen minutes--fourmiles."

  "Poor little Pinto! No wonder he was used up!"

  We had been riding at a smart lope, side by side, while thisconversation was going on, and in due time we reached the foot-hills.Here our pace was necessarily much reduced, but we continued on upPeter's creek as rapidly as possible until the gulch became so narrowand rocky, and so encumbered with great patches of snow, that we thoughtwe could make better time on foot.

  Leaving our ponies, therefore, we went scrambling forward, until, abouthalf a mile from our destination, Joe suddenly stopped, and holding uphis hand, cried eagerly:

  "Hark! Keep quiet! Listen!"

  "Bow, wow, wow! Bow, wow, wow, wow, wow!" came faintly to our ears fromfar up the mountain.

  "It's old Sox!" cried Joe. "There are no dogs up here!" And clapping hishands on either side of his mouth, he gave a yell which made the echoesring. Almost immediately the sharp report of a rifle came down to us,and with a spontaneous cheer we plunged forward once more.

  It was hard work, for we were about nine thousand feet above sea level;the further we advanced, too, the more snow we encountered, untilpresently we found the narrow valley so blocked with it that we had toascend the mountain-spur on one side to get around it. In doing so, wecame in sight of the cliff behind Peter's house, and then, for thefirst time, we understood what a snow-slide really meant.

  Reaching half way up the thousand-foot precipice was a great slope ofsnow, completely filling the end of the valley; and projecting from itat all sorts of angles were trees, big and little, some whole, somebroken off short, some standing erect as though growing there, someshowing nothing but their roots. At the same time, from the edge of theprecipice upward to the summit of the ridge, we had a clear view of thelong, bare track left by the slide, with the snow-banks, fifteen ortwenty feet thick, still standing on either side of it, held back by thetrees.

  "What a tremendous mass of snow!" I exclaimed, "There must be tenmillion tons of it! And what an irresistible power! Peter's house musthave been crushed like an eggshell!"

&nb
sp; "Yes," replied Joe. "But meanwhile where's Peter?"

  Once more he shouted; and this time, somewhere straight ahead of us,there was an answering shout which set us hurrying forward again witheager expectancy.

  At the same moment, up from the ground flew old Sox, perched upon theroot of an inverted tree, where, showing big and black against the snowbank behind him, he set to work to bark a continuous welcome as westruggled forward to the spot, one behind the other.

  Beneath a tree, stretched on a mat of fallen pine-needles, just on thevery outer edge of the slide, lay our old friend, the hermit, who, whenhe saw us approaching, raised himself on his elbow, and waving his otherhand to us, called out cheerily:

  "How are you, boys? Glad to see you! You're welcome--more than welcome!"

  "Hurt, Peter?" cried Joe, running forward and throwing himself upon hisknees beside the injured man.

  "A trifle. No bones broken, I believe, but pretty badly bruised andstrained, especially the right leg above the knee. I find I can'twalk--at least not just yet."

  "How did you escape the slide?" I asked.

  "Why, I had warning of it, luckily. I was up pretty early this morningand was just about to leave the house, when a dab of snow--a couple oftons, maybe--came down and knocked off my chimney. I knew what thatmeant, and I didn't waste much time, you may be sure, in getting out. Igrabbed my rifle and ran for it. I was hardly out of my door when theroar began, and you may guess how I ran then. I had reached almost thisspot when down it came. The edge of it caught me and tumbled me about;sometimes on the surface, sometimes on the ground; now on my face andnow feet uppermost, I was pitched this way and that like a cork in atorrent, till a big tree--the one Sox is sitting on, I think--slapped meon the back with its branches and hurled me twenty feet away among therocks. It was then I got hurt; but on the other hand, being flung out ofthe snow like that saved me from being buried, so I can't complain. Itwas as narrow a shave as one could well have."

  "It certainly was," said I. "And did you hold on to the rifle all thetime?"

  "Yes; though why, I can't say. The natural instinct to hold on tosomething, I suppose. But how is it you are on hand so promptly? It didoccur to me as I lay here that one of you might notice that there hadbeen a slide and remember me, but I never expected to see you here sosoon."

  "Well, that was another piece of good fortune," I replied. "Joe saw theslide come down and rode a four-mile race to come and tell me. We didnot lose a minute in getting under way, and we haven't wasted any timein getting here either. But now we are here, the question is: How are wegoing to get you out?"

  "Where do you propose to take me?" asked Peter.

  "Down to our house."

  For a brief instant the hermit looked as though he were going to demur;but if he had entertained such an idea, he thought better of it, andthanked me instead.

  "It's very good of you," said he; "though it gives me an odd sensation.I haven't been inside another man's house for years."

  "Well, don't you think it's high time you changed your habits?" ask Joe,laughing. "And you couldn't have a better opportunity--your own housesmashed flat; yourself helpless; and we two all prepared to lug you offwhether you like it or not."

  "Well," said Peter, smiling at Joe's threat, "then I suppose I may aswell give in. You're very kind, though, boys," he added, seriously, "andI'm very glad indeed to accept your offer."

  "Then let us pitch in at once and start downward," said Joe. "Do youthink you could walk with help?"

  "I doubt it; but I'll have a try."

  It was no use, though. With one arm over Joe's shoulder and the otherover mine he essayed to walk, but the attempt was a failure. His rightleg dragged helplessly behind; he could not take a step.

  "We've got to think of some other way," said Joe, as Peter once morestretched himself at full length upon the ground. "Can we----"

  But here he was interrupted.

  All this time, Sox, with rare backwardness, had remained perched uponhis tree-root, looking on and listening, but at this moment down heflew, alighted upon the ground near Peter's head, made a completecircuit of his master's prostrate form, then hopped up on his shoulder,and having promenaded the whole length of his body from his neck to histoes, he shook out his feathers and settled himself comfortably upon thehermit's left foot.

  We all supposed he intended to take a nap, but in another two seconds hestraightened up again, eyed each of us in turn, and, with an air ofhaving thought it all out and at last decided the matter beyond dispute,he remarked in a tone of gentle resignation:

  "John Brown's body."

  Having delivered this well-considered opinion with becoming solemnity,he threw back his head and laughed a rollicking laugh, as though he hadmade the very best joke that ever was heard.

  "You black heathen, Sox!" cried his master. "I believe you would laughat a funeral."

  "Lies," said Sox, opening one eye and shutting it again; a remark which,though it sounded very much as though intended as an insult to Peter,was presumably but the continuation of his previous quotation.

  "Get out, you old rascal!" cried the hermit, "shooing" away the birdwith his hat. "Your conversation is not desired just now." And as Soxflew back to his perch, Peter continued: "How far down did you leaveyour ponies, boys?"

  "About a mile," I replied.

  "Then I believe the best way will be for one of you to go down and bringup one of the ponies. I can probably get upon his back with your help,and then, by going carefully, I believe we can get down."

  "All right," said Joe, springing to his feet. "We'll try it. I'll godown. The little gray is the one, Phil, don't you think?"

  "Yes," I answered. "The little gray's the one; he's more sober-mindedthan my pony and very sure-footed. Bring the gray."

  Without further parley, away went Joe, and in about three-quarters of anhour he appeared again, leading the pony by the bridle.

  "It's pretty rough going," said he, "but I think we can make it if wetake it slowly. The pony came up very well. Now, Peter let's see if wecan hoist you into the saddle."

  It was a difficult piece of work, for Peter, though he had not an ounceof fat on his body, was a pretty heavy man, and being almost helplesshimself, the feat was not accomplished without one or two involuntarygroans on the part of the patient. At last, however, we had him settledinto the saddle, when Joe, carrying the rifle, took the lead, while I,with the two shovels over my shoulder, brought up the rear. In thisorder the procession started, but it had no more than started when Petercalled to us to stop.

  In order to avoid going up the hill more than was necessary, we wereskirting along the edge of the great snow-bank, when, as we passed justbeneath the big tree upon one of whose roots Socrates was perched,Peter, looking up to call to the bird, espied something which at onceattracted his attention.

  "Wait a moment, boys, will you?" he requested, checking the pony; andthen, turning to me, he continued: "Look up there, Phil. Do you see thatblack stone stuck among the roots? Poke it out with the shovel, willyou? I should like to look at it."

  Wondering rather at his taking any interest in stones at such a time, Inevertheless obeyed his behest, and with two or three vigorous prods Idislodged the black fragment, catching it in my hand as it fell; thoughit was so unexpectedly heavy that I nearly let it drop.

  "Ah!" exclaimed Peter, when I had handed it up to him. "Just what Ithought! This will interest Tom Connor."

  "Why?" we both asked. "What is it?"

  "A chunk of galena. Look! Do you see how it is made up of shining cubesof some black mineral? Lead--lead and sulphur. There's a vein up theresomewhere."

  "And the big tree, pushing its roots down into the vein, has broughtaway a piece of it, eh?" asked Joe.

  "Yes, that is what I suppose. There are some bits of light-colored rockup there, too, Phil. Pry out one or two of those, will you?"

  I did as requested, and on my passing them to Peter, he said:

  "These are porphyry rocks. The general form
ation up there is limestone,I know--I've noticed it frequently--but I expect it is crossedsomewhere--probably on the line of the belt of trees--by a porphyrydike. Put the specimens into your pocket, Joe; we must keep them to showto Connor. It's a very important find. And now let us get along."

  The journey down the gulch was very slow and very difficult--we madehardly a mile an hour--though, when we left the mountain and startedacross the mesa we got along better. When about half way, I left theothers and galloped home, where I lighted a fire and heated a lot ofwater, so that, when at length Peter arrived, I had a steaming hottubful all ready for him in the spare room on the ground floor.

  Though our friend protested against being treated like an invalid,declaring his belief that he would be about right again by morning, henevertheless consented to take his hot bath and go to bed; though Ithink he was persuaded to do so more because he was unwilling todisappoint us after all our preparations, than because he reallyexpected to derive any benefit.

  Be that as it may--and for my part I shall always hold that it was thehot bath that did it--when we went into Peter's room next morning, whatwas our surprise to find our cripple up and dressed. Though his rightleg was still so stiff as to be of little use to him, he declined ourhelp, and with the aid of a couple of broomsticks propelled himself outof his bedroom and into the kitchen, where Joe was busy getting thebreakfast ready. His rapid recovery was astonishing to both of us;though, as Joe remarked later, we need not be so very much surprised,for, with his hardy life and abstemious habits he was as healthy as anywild animal.

  As we sat at our morning meal, we talked over our find of yesterday,and discussed what was the proper course for us to pursue.

  "First, and most important," said Peter, "Tom Connor must be notified.We must waste no time. The prospectors are beginning to get out, and anyone of them, noticing the new scar on the mountain, might go exploringup there. When does Tom quit work on the Pelican?"

  "This evening," replied Joe. "It was this evening, wasn't it, Phil?"

  "Yes," I replied. "He was to quit at five this evening, and hisintention then was to come down here next day and make this place hisbase of operations."

  "Then the thing to do," said Joe, "is for me to ride up there thismorning--I started to go yesterday, you know, Peter--and catch Tom up atthe mine at noon. When he hears of our discovery, I've not a doubt butthat he will pack up and come back with me this evening, so as to get astart first thing to-morrow."

  "I expect he will," said I. "And while you are up there, Joe, you cansee Yetmore and give him your information about those cart-tracks."

  "What do you mean?" asked Peter. "Information about what cart-tracks?"

  "Oh, you haven't heard of it, of course," said I; and forthwith Iexplained to him all about the ore-theft, and how we suspected that thethief was in hiding somewhere in the foot-hills. Peter listenedattentively, and then asked:

  "Are you sure there was only one of them?"

  "Well, that's the general supposition," I replied. "Why?"

  "I thought there might be a pair of them, that's all. I'll tell you anodd thing that happened only the day before yesterday, which may or maynot have a bearing on the case. When I got home about dusk that evening,I found that some one had broken into my house and had stolen ahind-quarter of elk, a box of matches, a frying-pan, and--of all queerthings to select--a bear-trap. What on earth any one can want with abear-trap at this season of the year, I can't think, when there ishardly a bear out of his winter-quarters yet; and if he was he'd be asthin as a rail. I found the fellow's tracks easily enough--tall man--bigfeet--long stride--and trailed them down the gulch to a point whereanother man had been sitting on a rock waiting for him. This other man'strack was peculiar: he was lame--stepped short with his right foot, andthe foot itself was out of shape. Their trail went on down the hilltowards the mesa, but it was then too dark to follow it, and I was goingoff to take it up again next morning when that slide came down andchanged my programme."

  "Well," said Joe, who had sat with his elbows on the table and his chinon his hands, listening closely, "where the lame man springs from Idon't know, but if they should be the ore-thieves their stealing themeat and the frying-pan was a natural thing to do; for if they are goinginto hiding they will need provisions."

  "Yes," replied Peter; "and whether they knew of my place before or cameupon it by accident, they would probably think it safer to steal from methan to raid one of the ranches and thus risk bringing all the ranchmenabout their ears like a swarm of hornets."

  "That's true," said Joe. "Yes, I must certainly tell Tom and Yetmoreabout them: it may be important. And I'll start at once," he added,rising from the table as he spoke. "I'll take the buckboard, Phil, andthen I can bring back Tom's camp-kit and tools for him; otherwise hewould have to pack them on his pony and walk himself. I expect you willsee us back somewhere about seven this evening."

  With that he went out, and soon afterwards we heard the rattle of wheelsas he drove away.