ses weak as they are,
it sure would be taking chances."

"We'll make Tom Skinner's by noon to-morrow, and be out of the snow,
probably." The young soldier put down his tin cup and drew a map from
his pocket. "Hold a light, sergeant; I want to make some notes before I
forget them."

While the sergeant held a candle for him, Curtis rapidly traced with a
soft pencil a few rough lines upon the map. "That settles that
water-shed question;" he pointed with his pencil. "Here is the dividing
wall, not over there where Lieutenant Crombie drew it. Nothing is more
deceptive than the relative heights of ranges. Well, now take a last
look at the horses," he said, putting away his pencil, "and I'll unroll
our blankets."

As they crawled into their snug sleeping-bags Curtis said again, with a
sigh, "I'm sorry for the ponies."

"They'll be all right now, Captain; they've got something in their
stomachs. If a cayuse has any fuel in him he's like an engine--he'll
keep warm," and so silence fell on them, and in the valley the cold
deepened till the rocks and the trees cried out in the rigor of their
resistance.

The sun was filling the sky with an all-pervading crimson-and-orange
mist when the sergeant crawled out of his snug nest and started a fire.
The air was perfectly still, but the frost gripped each limb with
benumbing fury. The horses, with blankets awry, stood huddled close
together in the shelter of the pines not far away. As the sergeant
appeared they whinnied to express their dependence upon him, and when
the sun rose they turned their broadsides to it gratefully.

The two men, with swift, unhesitating action, set to work to break camp.
In half an hour the tent was folded and packed, the horses saddled, and
then, lustily singing, Curtis led the way down upon the floor of the
second basin, which narrowed towards the north into a deep and wooded
valley leading to the plains. The grasp of winter weakened as they
descended; December became October. The snow thinned, the streams sang
clear, and considerably before noon the little train of worn and hungry
horses came out upon the grassy shore of a small lake to bask in genial
sunshine. From this point the road to Skinner's was smooth and easy,
and quite untouched of snow.

As they neared the miner's shack, a tall young Payonnay, in the dress of
a cowboy, came out to meet them, smiling broadly.

"I'm looking for you, Captain."

"Are you, Jack? Well, you see me. What's your