“But, brother, there is only one day more before Christmas and we need that to trim the tree and get ready for the party,” Virginia protested. “Well, like as not it may blow over,” Slick Cy said, really against his better judgment. “If we are a-goin’, we’d better get started.” And so with the Slater cow-boy in the lead and Malcolm in the rear, the little procession started up the steep trail. But they had not gone far when Slick Cy whirled in his saddle and held up a warning hand. Malcolm had also heard the low ominous sound which seemed to be gathering in volume as though whatever caused it, with each second, was drawing nearer. “What is it?” the eastern girl inquired, looking from one startled face to another. “It’s the blizzard I dreaded,” Malcolm replied. “Cy, what shall we do? Just ahead of us the trail is exposed. How I do wish that we had insisted upon the girls returning.” “Oh, brother,” Virginia exclaimed “we will return at once if you think best.” “It’s too late now,” the lad replied. “Quick, jump from your horses and follow me. There is a small cave near here and in it you will be protected from the storm.” A moment later the two girls and small boy were huddled in the cave, and none too soon, for a blinding hurricane of snow and hail surged past. The two cow-boys had succeeded in leading the ponies into a shelter of brush and rock. Luckily the storm was of short duration and it was followed by a gleaming blue sky. But Malcolm would not permit the girls to ride higher up a trail which he knew might be dangerous at that time of the year, and so, reluctantly, they agreed to return to V. M. Ranch after having received the promise from the cow-boys that they would surely bring a tree by nightfall that the girls would have time to trim it and have it in readiness for the joyful Christmas day. Little Pat was very proud indeed when Malcolm placed a hand on his shoulder and said in his kind, comrady manner: “Laddie, you will take good care of the young ladies won’t you?” “Shure, sir, I’ll be doin’ me best,” the Irish boy declared, and the girls laughed to themselves as they rode down the trail, for often the little fellow looked back anxiously to be sure that all was well with them. “I’m disappointed not to see our Christmas tree growing in its mountain home,” Margaret said when they were cantering across the level desert trail toward V. M., “but I was so frightened when the storm surged by that I would not care to be caught in another.” “Such storms high on the mountains are very frequent at this time of the year,” Virginia told her friend, then she added: “How I do hope the boys will be able to find the big tree that Cy saw last week.” Even as Virg spoke, high up in the mountains, the two boys had found something, but it was not a Christmas tree. CHAPTER XVII CHRISTMAS EVE