United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Elijah followed. "The moon will be up by the time you need it. Follow
trail up to the timber line. Skirt the timber line till you reach the
first shoulder of Black Devil. After that, God help you! The horse you
are on is named Tom. If you aren't back in five days, I'll go over to
Lost Chief and get help to look for you."
"Thanks," said Douglas, and he rode away.
Warmed, refreshed, and with hope shadowing his anxiety, Douglas turned
the horses southward. Tom horse was a big, broad-hoofed brute,
hard-bitted and not at all enthusiastic about his prospective trip. But
--he was a stronger animal than Justus and Douglas pushed him sharply
through the snow.
The trail through the fields for three or four miles was easy to find in
the starlight. The valley narrowed as it rose and finally Lost Chief and
Black Devil thrust foot to foot in a narrow canyon. Douglas did not
enter the canyon but twined upward to the right along the timber line
that clothed the ankles of Black Devil. The moon had not yet risen when
the timber disappeared at the foot of the first shoulder. Douglas pulled
up the panting horses, turned back to the wind and rested for a few
moments, then put Tom to the climb. The snow was without crust but it
was knee-deep and Tom didn't like it. He floundered and snorted, but
Douglas spurred him relentlessly and they crested the shoulder without
pause. Here, however, Doug decided to wait for the moon.
He moved into the shelter of a rock heap, for the wind was huge, and,
beating his arms across his chest, waited with what patience he could
muster. Where was she now? Could even her splendid courage stand up
against the eerie loneliness. If only he could see her now, returning
defeated, though still defiant. But he knew that he would not meet her
so. She would not give up while she had strength to pursue the
adventure.
There was no view of the peak from this spot. Before him lifted a dark,
shadowy wall, sloping interminably to the remote heavens. To the east,
Lost Chief Range was silhouetted against a faint glow that told of the
coming moon. To the west was a chaos of unfamiliar peaks. When the dusk
of the mountain-slope before him turned to radiant silver, Douglas
started the horses on and spurred Tom relentlessly. And if he had
known how to pray, he told himself, he would have asked the Almighty to
give him strength for the tremendous venture which lay before him.
CHAPTER XVII
BLACK DEVIL PASS
"They can stand the curse of being women, but they're revolting against
men's being stupid."
_--The Mormon's Wife_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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