oss
tobacco-stained lips.

"And you say you live in Colorado."

"I didn't say--"

"Well, it don't make no difference whether you did or not. I know--you
don't. Nobody thet lives out here'd try to make Hazard Pass for th'
first time in th' middle o' May."

"I don't see--"

"Look up there." The old man pointed to the splotches of white,
thousands of feet above, the swirling clouds which drifted from the icy
breast of Mount Taluchen, the mists and fogs which caressed the
precipices and rolled through the valleys created by the lesser peaks.
"It may be spring down here, boy, but it's January up there. They's
only been two cars over Hazard since November and they come through
last week. Both of 'em was old stagers; they've been crossin' th'
range for th' last ten year. Both of 'em came through here lookin'
like icicles 'an' swearing t' beat four o' a kind. They's mountains
an' mountains, kid. Them up there's th' professional kind."

A slight, puzzled frown crossed the face of Barry Houston.

"But how am I going to get to the other side of the range? I'm going
to Tabernacle."

"They's a train runs from Denver, over Crestline. Look up there--jest
to the right of Mount Taluchen. See that there little puff o' smoke?
That's it."

"But that'd mean--."

"For you t' turn around, go back to Denver, leave that there chariot o'
your'n in some garage and take the train to-morrow mornin'. It'd get
you t' Tabernacle some time in the afternoon."

"When would I get there--if I could make the Pass all right?"

"In about five hours. It's only fourteen mile from th' top. But--"

"And you say two other cars have gone through?"

"Yep. But they knowed every crook an' turn!"

For a long moment, the young man made no reply. His eyes were again on
the hills and gleaming with a sudden fascination. From far above, they
seemed to call to him, to taunt him with their imperiousness, to
challenge him and the low-slung high-powered car to the combat of
gravitation and the elements. The bleak walls of granite appeared to
glower at him, as though daring him to attempt their conquest; the
smooth stretches of pines were alluring things, promising peace and
quiet and contentment,--will-o-the-wisps, which spoke only their
beauty, and which said nothing of the long stretches of gravelly mire
and puddles, resultant from the slowly melting snows. The swirling
clouds, the mists, the drifting fogs all appeared to await him, like