"It's bad enough," one of the Mountain Company's men told Ross, "up here eighty miles from the railroad, with a stage only three times a week in summer and any time it can get through in the winter. But, when it comes to workin' on the Creek, _ex_cuse me! Seven mile over Crosby, and the trail shut up half the year. No, I'm goin' to Cody when the Mountain works shuts down." The Gale's Ridge Company worked all winter; but the Mountain Company dismissed its employees, twenty in number, when the deep snows came. To the twenty Ross applied in vain. Labor was dear and men scarce "Cody way," and the miners refused to be mewed up over on the Creek for five months at any price. "You see," Steele explained, "I'd be glad to employ all the twenty during the winter myself; but not many of 'em will ever stay up here in Camp--too much cut off. I shall run short of hands all winter. Of course, when the railroad gets up here, it will be different. They'll be willing to stay then." Ross checked a groan. "The railroad isn't here, but I am," he observed grimly. Steele looked at him curiously. "Why don't you strike the trail back East," he asked abruptly, "since you started out without understanding the situation?" Ross glanced up in surprise. "Why, I never thought of doing that!" he exclaimed, and dropped the subject. But Steele continued to look him over with a new interest; for the stage the previous evening had brought to Steele a letter from the elder Grant asking for private information concerning the situation Ross, Junior, was encountering. Ross's brief letters from Dry Creek had shown Ross, Senior, that he had no real knowledge of the nature of the difficulties into which he had sent his son. The morning of the third day, Ross, staggering around uncertainly without a cane, aided Steele in binding the supplies on the wooden saddles of the packhorses. From the Gale's Ridge Company's supply-shack they brought sacks of flour and cornmeal, boxes of canned vegetables and condensed milk, sides of bacon and hams, bags of coffee and tea, all of which Steele with many a twist of the rope and "half-hitch" secured to the clumsy saddles. The trustiest horse carried the emergency chest. On Ross's own horse, lashed behind his saddle, were his bed blankets and a bundle from the trunk Aunt Anne had packed with such care. "All ready?" called Steele, one foot in his stirrup. He looked back at Ross already mounted, bringing up the rear of the string of packhorses, standing in front of the company's store. "All ready," shouted Ross. Steele, about to swing himself up, hesitated. He glanced again at Ross. Then, dropping his bridle reins to the ground, he disappeared inside the store, emerging presently with a short rifle and a cartridge belt. "Ever use a gun?" he asked. Ross hesitated. "I've practiced target shooting a little, and gone hunting a few times; but," candidly, "I don't amount to shucks with a gun."