a return
salute by means of his sombrero, he waited until "Bonito" disappeared
into that fortress of snow, knowing that once over the crest ten minutes
would be sufficient time to make the crossing in safety. As she did not
reappear, Jack struck boldly into the trail, which now led him by easy
stages up toward timber line, the dark rushing waters of the Grand River
hissing and seething far below him. At the entrance to the canon, where
the warmer current of air met the colder wave from the snow-covered
mountainside, huge bristling bayonets of frosted rye grass waved their
menacing blades at intruders. Lattice-worked ramparts of ice and snow
were veiled with filmy curtains bespangled with millions of
scintillating diamonds, the congealed breathings from that steaming
throat, through which ceaselessly poured the mountain torrent in its
strenuous effort to join the ocean.

Jack looked wistfully at the scene and sighed that a spectacle of such
rare beauty could not be shared by his eastern friends.

The tortuous trail often led to the edge of a precipice, where the
slightest misstep of his pony would have hurled both beast and rider
into a frightful abyss. At other times the narrow pathway meandered
serpentine fashion between pine trees so thickly interspersed that the
pack would wedge first on one side and then the other, to the imminent
destruction of Jack's belongings.

CHAPTER VI.

THE RANCH ON THE TROUBLESOME.

It was pitch dark when Jack rode into the corral at the ranch on the
Troublesome. After unpacking and storing his trappings he went over to
the ranch house. Several Ute ponies were in the corral. Their presence
puzzled him, and as he entered the log house what was his surprise to
find himself in the presence of Colorow, Bennett and Antelope. Old
Tracy, the owner of the ranch, greeted the newcomer with a merry
"How--how--well, beat my brains out with a straw ef I tho't of a-seeing
you afore spring."

Bill, the fiery red-whiskered, red-haired, red-faced, stuttering
Irishman, ejaculated, after a good deal of effort, "D--d--d--durn my
p--p--p--pictures! G--g--g--glad t--t--t--to see yer." The obese,
low-browed renegade Colorow looked inquiringly. So did the other Indians
as Jack replied to both ranchmen:

"I left Rock Creek yesterday morning and crossed the Gore range today.
The snow was pretty deep in spots."

Colorow's eyes glittered as it dawned on him that the white man Jack of
Rock Creek and