the calamity that threatened her friend, served to cool Julie's fear;
then she used common sense in sparing herself as far as possible. She
was out of Joan's sight now, and by making use of every bush, root, or
vine on the slanting rocks, she resisted the force of gravitation
enough to slide slowly instead of being catapulted from the heights.
She knew not just where this chute would end--in deep or shallow water.
If the former she still might swim to shore, if that were not too far
away.
The last few feet of this slide ended abruptly where the cliff had
been worn away by the spring freshets and floods. Here Julie dropped
into the water which formed a hole along the rockbound shore, so that
she went in without striking anything, and immediately began swimming
to free herself from the tangle of roots and debris that fell with
her.
She swam for a distance until she found a narrow edge of sand where
she might sit and rest in the sunshine. So she managed to reach this
twenty-inch-wide refuge and shook out her hair to dry. She wondered
what Joan would do when she found she had to make her own way alone to
the canoe! And the picture she painted of her erstwhile companion,
stumbling along weeping, gave her some satisfaction.
This spirit of vengeance, however, was soon gone, and a kindly feeling
took its place. She began to plan how she might creep along that
narrow edge of beach to reach the point on land where she could see
the creek pouring into the lake. From there she could signal Joan when
she reached the canoe, and thus relieve her mind of the fear that her
chum had been drowned.
After overcoming many obstacles, she reached the jutting land that
marked the entrance to the creek. The canoe had landed on the opposite
side, further up stream. Hardly had she gained the top of this
promontory before she heard excited voices, and one above the others
wailing dismally.
Instantly she knew Joan was safe and that the others had arrived. A
line of Scripture flashed through her mind and caused her to
smile--"The voice of one crying in the wilderness," quoth Julie.
No sooner had she grasped the fact that she would be with her old
friends in a few moments, than she recovered all her old _sang froid_.
She shook out her clinging clothes, and twisted up her half-dried
hair, then sat down on top of the promontory and sang. Yes, _sang_,
and sang merrily, too, because she thought that would convey the
impression of how unconcerned she felt.
Sound carries far over the water, so Julie's singing was heard by the
rescuers as soon as they came out into the lake. Then they shouted,
and she replied. Finally they saw the solitary figure sitting upon a
rock with both hands clasped about her knees, singing as if her heart
was too full of joy to hold it all.
The moment the canoes came near enough, the Captain gazed up, and
asked, "How can you get down, Julie?"
"Same way I came up, Verny--with my feet!"
Every one laughed, but Mrs. Vernon shook her head as she murmured,
"Same old Julie! Nothing on earth will quench that spirit."
Suddenly, to the horror of every one in the canoes, they saw a form
shoot past them and dive into the water. But as suddenly, a laughing
face appeared above the surface and soon Julie was in one of the
canoes.
Had it not been for the danger of upsetting, the occupants of that
canoe would have hugged the scout in their relief at having found her
safe and sound,--because Joan's report had been more than despairing.
"O Julie, darling! I thought you were dead!" cried Joan.
"Did you? But you wailed for yourself when you saw me go down to
perdition," scorned Julie.
"But how did you manage to get down to the promontory, Julie?" argued
Joan, ignoring the other's reply.
"Now, how do you s'pose? I motored there, of course!"
When they all returned to the belated and cold dinner, it was late
afternoon, and no one felt in the mood for fresh adventures that day.
So they decided to camp on the lovely meadow for the night, and
continue the trip in the morning. The three scouts who had been left
in camp to guard the dinner were not told of the escape until later.
As they all dawdled languidly over the last fragments of the supper, a
silver bar slanted suddenly across their faces, and the very dishes
were transformed into a shimmering glory. The broad shaft of light
that shone from the newly-risen moon lighted up the whole meadow and
penetrated far into the dark fringe of pines that bordered the
meadowland.
Then the full moon rose higher in the vaulted dome of the blue
heavens--heavens as blue as the Venetian Sea; and sharp points of
starlight began to twinkle like tiny beacons on crafts at anchor in
that peaceful haven of fathomless blue.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ON TO FLAT TOP MOUNTAIN
What would a trip in the Rockies mean without an Indian guide? He is
the most valuable asset one can have. No matter where he finds
himself, under the greatest stress of difficult conditions and
circumstances, the Indian guide will manage to save the day. No human
being can get as much out of Nature as an Indian. No one can find as
desirable a campsite without loss of time. No one can make fire as
quickly, pitch tents so securely, weave beds so comfortably, clean up
so neatly, spin yarns so thrillingly, and smoke a pipe so contentedly,
as an Indian.
So, in the early morning when the scouts awakened to the hope of new
adventures, they found their guides preparing breakfast. Julie and
Joan felt no after-effects of their unpleasant experience, other than
in memory, and there was no reason for that to cripple either one.
The breadtwists were baking, duck broiling, and other delicious odors
coming from the campfire, so the girls speedily completed their bath
and toilet for the day. Then, the delicious breakfast out of the way,
the kits were packed into the canoes, the scouts got in and sat down,
and onward they traveled.
At every turn in the stream new vistas of Nature's varied beauties
opened out before their admiring eyes, and every now and then, a scout
would call, "Take that picture, Verny! It's wonderful." And the
Captain always snapped the scene.
Beautiful birds swung low on branches, with heads on one side, eyeing
the strange creatures in the canoes. Squirrels sat upon the boughs and
threw nutshells at the scouts as the canoes passed under their
perches. Thus the hours flew by until night fell again. Camp was made,
supper cooked, Indian legends told about the fire, then bed and
refreshing sleep.
Beautiful weather blessed the scouts while on the canoe trip, and
added to the enjoyment of the experience. Many times they paddled
through water that looked like molten silver, so heavy and opaque was
it in the weird light. Again they went along streams that reflected
the sunset hues, and looked more like sheets of opal with its
changeable colors of rose, lilac, and yellow-green. Then this fading,
translucent color would suddenly vanish, and all be dark! Again there
were times when the canoes threaded a way between towering cliffs that
cast somber shadows down upon the waters, and other times when they
rushed through gorges and gullies.
Hour after hour, day after day, sped on to join the yesterdays, with
one thrilling experience after another passing into memories, and the
scouts began to realize that their trip was almost ended. All the time
the three Indians paddled faithfully, carefully, and silently, as much
a factor in the enjoyment of the marvelous scenes as the water or the
forests.
At last the scouts reached the great falls that marked the end of the
journey, but they still had the joy of going back. So the backtrail
began, with as many happy adventures as one can hope for on a canoe
trip. No accident or disagreement marred the trip, and when they
reached the rendezvous where they were to meet the riders who went
over the Divide, every one was satisfied.
"'The End of a Perfect Day,'" sang Julie, as she jumped out of the
canoe.
That same night Mr. Gilroy and Mr. Vernon hiked into camp and were
received with noisy welcome. They were as wildly enthusiastic over the
fine specimens they had secured in their side trips, as the scouts
were over their canoe trip. Then in the morning the riders came to
camp, and after hearty thanks from both sides, the horses and canoes
changed hands again.
The Kenmore party started down the stream, and the scouts rode away
along the trail that led to Glacier Creek and to Flat Top Mountain.
The trails were rough but the horses were sure-footed, and all went
well.
They had gone some distance when just ahead, beside the trail they
were following, they saw a beautiful sheet of water. It really was a
wild tarn, placed in the pocket of the mountains that encircled it.
"It looks just like a diamond sparkling in the deep prongs of these
pointed peaks," said Julie.
"We've discovered a poetess, scouts!" exclaimed Ruth, but Julie
frowned upon her.
"We'll find many such pure jewels hidden in these settings," said Mr.
Gilroy. "Some are perched so high in the mountaintops that you wonder
how they ever snuggle there. Others are so deeply entrenched in
terrifying chasms and ravines that only the intrepid ever see them.
But most of these gems are made by the glaciers that carved out their
basins by constant friction. The waters, so cold and pure, come from
leaping cataracts and icy falls above, that flow from the melting ice
fields during the summer."
On the shores of one of these lovely lakes the Indians made camp that
night. The two scientists decided to study some of the peculiar
formations found near the place, and the scouts were satisfied to
enjoy a quiet rest for a time. With an acre or more of flower-dotted
meadow on one side, rugged cliffs on another side, dark forests on
still the third side, and Tyndall Glacier rising sheer from the fourth
side, what more could adventurous youth ask?
"Girls," remarked Mr. Gilroy that evening, "this place offers us all
we need for individual pastimes,--you to explore in the forests, and
Vernon and I to collect specimens. It's up to you to say how long we
camp here. I'm ready to move on whenever you say."
Later, as they sat about the campfire, Betty asked, "Gilly, what is it
that makes a glacier?"
"Is it the winter's snow that piles up on mountaintops and freezes?"
added Julie who, too, had been puzzling over the matter.
"A glacier, girls, is an accumulation of ice in an altitude where the
melting process is not equal to the deposit. Every winter adds snow
and ice to the peaks, and then when these slide down to milder areas,
they melt and vanish into these rivers and tarns.
"Some of these glaciers found in the Rockies were left here since the
Ice Age, when the whole globe was ice-clad. The glacial rivers that
flowed from these ice-peaks are mainly responsible for the wild
scenery in these mountains. They cut a gully here, or scoop out a pit
there, according to the force and size of the torrents. In thus
forcing a way through every obstacle, these resistless currents carry
along timber, soil, and rocks.
"These, in turn, tearing and banging against other obstacles that
resist them, finally carry _them_ along to add to the power of its
ruthless progress.
"Through ages these ice torrents, starting from the highest peaks and
coming down, down, down from one resting place to another, but always
traveling downward and onward, moving mountains, as it were, changing
the course of mighty rivers, filling up inland seas,--have given you
this grand scenery of to-day.
"Not only do all kinds of debris come flooding the valleys and lakes
with this gushing from glacial fields, but gold and other precious
metals are washed down and deposited. Thus the seeker may find gold,
if he is willing to sacrifice for it.
"To warn you scouts that these glacial fields are not as safe as a
floor in your home, let me tell you what happened to a party of
mountain climbers. They were experienced men, too.
"They were climbing Mont Blanc when a snowslide swept them away into a
deep crevasse. One man escaped to tell the story. It was impossible to
reach any of them, so the scientists figured out how long a time must
elapse before the glacier would move down to give up its victims.
Computations had it that forty years must pass by and then the ice
would reach a place where the bodies of the men would be recovered.
Forty-one years afterwards, far down the slope of that same mountain,
the frozen forms of seven men were found and removed."
"Well, Gilly, rest assured that not one scout will be found frozen
that way, this year or forty years hence!" promised Julie,
emphatically.
"Not if we can help it!" seconded the girls.
"See that you remember this vow, when you feel like a little
adventuring over a peak," laughed Mr. Gilroy.
A few days after this talk, the scouts begged the guides to take them
on a hunting-trip,--not that they ever shot anything, but they liked to
explore the forests and watch the animals browse or run away.
So they hiked up the steep ascent of the mountain that rose many
thousands of feet above the camp, and after startling several hares
and other tiny creatures, they came upon a fox, dining upon a wild
rabbit. But he leaped away almost before they had seen him, his great
red brush disappearing between the trees.
"Wasn't he splendid!" exclaimed Betty.
"Um! Not scout scare him away--something comin' dis way," returned
Tally, peering eagerly into the dimness.
"Tally!" hissed Omney suddenly, "Grizzly!" At the same time the scouts
distinctly heard a crashing through the dry branches of the
down-timber.
"Clim tree--quick--in any one near!" warned Tally, while he cocked his
rifle to protect the scouts.
"Why don't _you_?" demanded Julie, who stood back of the Indians when
the other girls scampered anxiously for aspens, or other
"safety-first" places.
"Me fight!"
"Oh!" was all Julie said, but she stood her ground behind the two
Indians, while her friends all begged her to seek a tree for safety.
"I want to watch what is going on down here--you can't see a thing up
in the foliage," called Julie. "Besides, I am safe because the bear
will have to down the guides first, before he can get a mouthful out
of me."
But the grizzly must have caught a scent of the human beings who stood
too near the tempting bit of rabbit right on the trail! So he sat
upright on his haunches and waved his fearful paws threateningly,
while he growled as if saying, "Come on! I'm waiting for you folks.
Why don't you fight?"
But the two guides and Julie were so screened by the bush that the
bear could not see them,--he merely scented them. Then the wind shifted
again, and the grizzly thought he was mistaken, for he smelled no
further annoyance. But he decided to be cautious, as it always
behooved him to be when man was at hand. So he gave voice to a
terrifying roar, just to show these pigmies what would happen if they
dared to interfere with his meal!
[Illustration: Julie stood her ground behind the two Indians]
As he sat munching the mouthful of rabbit, blinking at nothing in
particular, Tally suddenly jerked his head sideways and took a
searching look at the beast. Then he leaned over and whispered to
Omney so softly that Julie could not hear a sound.
Omney now stared at the bear in unbelief, but after gazing keenly,
soon nodded his head anxiously. Then, in another moment, two rifles
were silently levelled, and two shots rang out. The grizzly rolled
over while the rabbit still remained half-chewed in his great maw.
"O Tally! Shame on you!" cried Julie, furiously.
The scouts now slid down the treetrunks and ran over. Each one had a
protest to register against the heartlessness of the Indians. But they
were over by the bear, turning him over on his side.
"Him be Devil-Bear!" exclaimed Tally, excitedly.
"Um! Bump on haid, scar on rump!" added Omney.
"What do you mean, boys?" now asked Mrs. Vernon.
The scouts saw a great knob on one side of the bear's head, and an old
scar that cleft his left hind-quarter almost in two.
"Dis ole Devil-Bear come down all time to ranches, kill calf, eat
lamb, carry off ennything, an' nobuddy ketch him. Evehbud' hunt and
shoot, but Devil-Bear quick an' get away. He climb glacier, go over
peaks, live evehwhere.
"Sometime him in Flat Top, nudder time him down in Wyom. One time he
run in Denver, kill horse, scare evehbuddy away, den run back to Flat
Top." Tally laughed at the last memory.
"Him steal cattle, even fight ranchers, so big reward out fer him,"
added Omney.
"How can you be sure you have killed this demon?" asked Mrs. Vernon,
eagerly.
"We hear 'bout Devil-Bear and pickshers nail on all signboard for
reward. Big scar in rump, big lump on haid--him got 'em," Tally
replied.
"Um! Dis scar make by rancher. One day he chop wood and fine sheep-dog
play round. Devil-Bear steal out of woods, catch dog unner man's nose,
and run away. Rancher so mad he frow axe at bear, an' it hit right
there," explained Omney, poking his foot at the scar on the bear.
"Rancher say dat bear neveh walk gin, but nex' year nudder rancher see
bear kill calf an' many lamb and run away," added Tally.
"Then I'm glad you shot him!" declared Betty, glaring at the dead
beast.
"But you've got to get him back to camp, boys, to get the reward,"
said Mrs. Vernon.
The two Indians considered this the least of their problems, and when
they had tied the forelegs and the hindlegs together, they swung the
heavy animal from a long pole they had cut down from a clump of pine.
That night when Mr. Gilroy heard the story, he assured the scouts that
the guides had really done a great service to the country at large, as
this bear had terrorized every one in the mountain ranches.
"As a rule, grizzlies are not ferocious except when interfered with.
They use their fine intelligence to keep man at a safe distance with
their roaring and display of fierce strength. But this rascal was the
exception, and it's well he is dead," added he.
"If the guides get the reward, the scouts ought to have the pelt,"
suggested Mr. Vernon.
"I'll see to it that they do," returned Mr. Gilroy.
The Indians made quick work of skinning the beast and leaving the head
on the body so the bump could be identified. The bear fat was tried
out and saved by the guides, and several fine steaks were carved from
the carcass and broiled, but the girls refused them.
The men had no such qualms, however, and ate greedily, then smacked
their lips laughingly at the disgust manifested on the scouts' faces.
"Devil-Bear good eat!" chuckled Tally, as he wrapped the remaining
steaks in a paper for another time.
When the campers resumed their ride, Devil-Bear--or all that was left
of him--was packed on Jolt's back. The mule cared not a fig for a dead
bear, so the skin was carried along without demur, although the horses
now and then caught a whiff of the bear-pelt and tossed their heads
nervously.
The trail up Flat Top Mountain proved as wonderful as it had promised
to be. The scouts rode their horses without a tremor, although at
times they went on narrow ledges, forded roaring streams, or plunged
down through gulches, and over down-timber. They steadily climbed all
that day, and towards night were on Flat Top--twelve thousand, three
hundred feet high.
Mr. Gilroy reached his desired Tyndall Glacier, and so delighted was
he that he acted like a boy with a new toy. Here they camped for a few
days while the scientist collected some interesting bits, then the
party continued to the very top of the mountain.
From this summit the scouts could see over the entire country for
miles around. Estes Park looked like a tiny city park from that
height. And Long's Peak appeared on a line with their sight. They
could plainly see Stone's and Taylor's Peaks, and also Mt. Hallett,
while several famous lakes,--Mills, Bierstadt, Dream, and others--were
seen gleaming like sheets of blue ice down in the hollows between the
crags.
Fresh camp was pitched that night under the shadow of a gigantic
column of jagged rock that rose perpendicularly above the tableland of
the peak. The base of the rock was about a quarter of a mile around,
but one side of the monolith dropped sheer down to a cliff a thousand
feet below. From that ledge it again dropped down to another rocky
resting-spot hundreds of feet lower. Thence it went straight down
three thousand feet to the bottom of its stand, where it found a firm
footing in the valley.
As every one was tired with the climb of the day, they were soon fast
asleep on the fragrant balsam beds, and slept until the snorting of
the horses roused the Indians, and then they, in turn, called to the
others to get up.
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 debris 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.