American fiction -- 20th century; Arizona -- Fiction; Western stories
Mounted on Dale's strongest horses, with only a light pack, an ax, and
their weapons, the two men had reached the snow-line on the pass by noon
that day. Tom, the tame cougar, trotted along in the rear.
The crust of the snow, now half thawed by the sun, would not hold
the weight of a horse, though it upheld the men on foot. They walked,
leading the horses. Travel was not difficult until the snow began to
deepen; then progress slackened materially. John had not been able to
pick out the line of the trail, so Dale did not follow his tracks. An
old blaze on the trees enabled Dale to keep fairly well to the trail;
and at length the height of the pass was reached, where the snow was
deep. Here the horses labored, plowing through foot by foot. When,
finally, they sank to their flanks, they had to be dragged and goaded
on, and helped by thick flat bunches of spruce boughs placed under their
hoofs. It took three hours of breaking toil to do the few hundred yards
of deep snow on the height of the pass. The cougar did not have great
difficulty in following, though it was evident he did not like such
traveling.
That behind them, the horses gathered heart and worked on to the edge
of the steep descent, where they had all they could do to hold back from
sliding and rolling. Fast time was made on this slope, at the bottom of
which began a dense forest with snow still deep in places and windfalls
hard to locate. The men here performed Herculean labors, but they got
through to a park where the snow was gone. The ground, however, soft and
boggy, in places was more treacherous than the snow; and the travelers
had to skirt the edge of the park to a point opposite, and then go on
through the forest. When they reached bare and solid ground, just before
dark that night, it was high time, for the horses were ready to drop,
and the men likewise.
Camp was made in an open wood. Darkness fell and the men were resting
on bough beds, feet to the fire, with Tom curled up close by, and the
horses still drooping where they had been unsaddled. Morning, however,
discovered them grazing on the long, bleached grass. John shook his head
when he looked at them.
“You reckoned to make Pine by nightfall. How far is it--the way you'll
go?”
“Fifty mile or thereabouts,” replied Dale.
“Wal, we can't ride it on them critters.”
“John, we'd do more than that if we had to.”
They were saddled and on the move before sunrise, leaving snow and bog
behind. Level parks and level forests led one after another to long
slopes and steep descents, all growing sunnier and greener as the
altitude diminished. Squirrels and grouse, turkeys and deer, and less
tame denizens of the forest grew more abundant as the travel advanced.
In this game zone, however, Dale had trouble with Tom. The cougar had to
be watched and called often to keep him off of trails.
“Tom doesn't like a long trip,” said Dale. “But I'm goin' to take him.
Some way or other he may come in handy.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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