ruptly. They stood before a mass of brushwood,
piled thickly to keep out wild beasts and delude the searching eye of
hostile Indians. Beyond, seen in patches, was a dazzle of white.

"Snow, of course," said Adan, with a groan.

The boys pulled the branches apart without much difficulty: the priests
had studied facility of egress and had raised the barrier from within.
In a few moments the boys stood in the sunlight; and the mountains
hemmed them in.

Adan stamped his foot savagely on the hard snow. "We are where we
started a week ago," he said. "No more, no less."

"No," said Roldan, who also had felt demoralised for a moment. "The
priests were too clever for that. They would want to get into the
shelter of the mountains, no more. I believe that from the top of that
point above the tunnel we can see the valley."

"Well, we can at least look," said Rafael, who was bitterly weary and
hungry, but determined not to be outdone by these hardened adventurers.

The boys made their way up the declivity as best they could through the
heavy snowdrifts, pulling themselves up by clutching at young trees and
scrub. They were thinly clad and very cold, and hunger was loud of
speech. When after a half-hour's weary climb, they reached the summit,
they drew a long sigh of relief, but their enthusiasm was too moderate
for words in present physical conditions. The valley lay below. Far
away, beyond leagues of low hills and wide valleys something white
reflected the sun. It was the Mission.

"We have not a moment to rest, unless we can find a safe hiding-place,"
said Roldan. "If he should return and find us gone, he would follow at
once."

"Where shall we go?" asked the others, who, however, felt a quickening
of blood and muscle at the thought that the priest might be under their
feet even then.

"How near is the next rancho, and whose is it?"

"A league beyond the Mission grant. It is Don Juan Ortega's."

"Very well, we go there and ask for horses."

The boys made their way rapidly down the slope, which after all was
only that of a foot-hill. Beyond were other foot-hills, and they
skirted among them, finally entering a canon. It was as dark and cold
and damp as the last hour of the tunnel had been, but the narrow river,
roaring through its middle, had caught all the snow, and there was
scarce a fleck on the narrow tilted banks. The hill opposite was the
last of the foot-hills; but how to reach it? The current was very
swift,