their breakfast. Old Blacky was still cross, but Jack contented
himself by calling him a few names. We also got up what wood we
could and piled it against the wagon, for use in case our
kerosene became exhausted, though we decided to cook in the wagon
for the present. The snow was seven or eight inches deep, and
still falling rapidly. After breakfast we took the pony down to a
little open fiat and turned her loose. The old instinct of her
wild days came back to her, and she began to paw away the snow
and gnaw at the scanty grass beneath.

After giving the other horses a little hay we returned to the
wagon, where we stayed most of the day. I'm afraid we were a
little frightened by the prospect. Of course, we knew that if it
came to the worst we could leave the wagon and make our way back
along the trail on foot, but we did not want to do that. But as
for getting the wagon back along the narrow road, now blotted out
by the snow, we knew it would be foolish to attempt it. It was
not very cold in the wagon, and Jack played the banjo, and we
were fairly cheerful. The snow kept coming down all day, and by
night it was a foot deep. The pony came in from the flat as it
began to grow dark, and we gave the horses their supper and left
them in the shelter of the rocks. Then we brushed the snow off
the top of the cover, as we had done several times before, and
went in to spend the evening by the light of the lantern. When
bedtime came, Jack looked up and said:

"The cover doesn't seem to sag down. It must have stopped
snowing."

We looked out, and found that it was so. We could even see
the stars; and, better yet, it did not seem to be growing colder.
We went to bed feeling encouraged.

The next morning the sun peeped in at us through the long
trunks of the pines, and Ollie soon discovered that the wind was
from the south.

"Unless it turns cold again, this will fix the snow," said
Jack.

He was right, and it soon began to thaw. By noon the little
stream in the gulch was a torrent, and before night patches of
bare ground began to appear. We decided not to attempt to leave
camp that day, but the next morning saw us headed back along the
tortuous road. In two hours we were again on the main trail. Just
as we turned in, Eugene Brooks came along, having also been
delayed by the snow, though the fall where he was had not been
nearly so great. 'Gene laughed at us, and told us that we had
been following a t