rear wheels of the mail coach, and wagged his
tail in a frenzy of delight whenever his human friend spoke to him.
The climb was so precipitous that it was hours before he could reach
the summit, and he was yet some miles from being half way when his
well-trained eye caught indications of coming disaster. A thousand
trivial things announced that a mountain storm was brewing; the clouds
trailed themselves into long, leaden ribbons, then swirled in circles
like whirlpools. The huge Douglas firs began to murmur, then whisper,
then growl. The sky grew thick and reddish, the gleaming, snow-clad
peaks disappeared.

Maurice took in the situation at once. With the instinct of a veteran
mail carrier, his first care was to roll his mail bags in a rubber
sheet, while the registered sack, doubly protected, he never allowed for
a moment to leave its station beneath his knees under the seat. These
simple precautions were barely completed before the storm was upon
him. A blinding flash set his horses on edge, their sensitive nerves
quivering in every flank. Maurice gathered the lines firmly, seized his
"blacksnake," and, with a low whistle, urged his animals, that bounded
forward, snorting with fear as a crack of thunder followed, booming down
the gorges with deafening echoes. In another moment the whole forest
seemed alive. The giant pines whipped and swayed together, their supple
tips bending and beaten with the fury of the tempest. Above the wild
voices of the hurricane came the frequent crash of falling timber;
but, through it all, the boy drove on without thought of himself or
of shelter, and through it all the splendid animals kept the trail,
responding as only the horse can respond to the touch of a guiding rein
or the sound of the mountaineer's whistle. But the end came for Maurice,
when, upon rounding an abrupt steep, his four animals reared in terror,
then seemed to crouch back upon their haunches. The rude log bridge they
should have dashed across was gone--in its place gaped a huge fissure,
its throat choked with wreckage of trestle and planking.

The unexpected halt nearly pitched Maurice from the wagon, but he
steadied first his nerve, then his hands, then his eyes. Why had the
bridge gone down, was his first thought. The storm was of far too brief
duration to have done the mischief. Then those keen young eyes of his
saw beyond the tempest and the ruined bridge. They saw about the useless
supports and wooden props fresh