verge to the chase of Dick
Varley's horse in particular. This noble charger, having been ridden by
savages until all his old fire, and blood, and metal were worked up to a
red heat, no sooner discovered that he was pursued than he gave a snort
of defiance, which he accompanied with a frantic shake of his mane, and
a fling of contempt in addition to a magnificent wave of his tail; then
he thundered up the valley at a pace which would speedily have left Joe
Blunt and Henri out of sight behind if--ay! that's the word, _if_! what
a word that _if_ is! what a world of if's we live in! There never was
anything that wouldn't have been something else _if_ something hadn't
intervened to prevent it! Yes, we repeat, Charlie would have left his
two friends miles and miles behind in what is called "no time," _if_ he
had not run straight into a gorge which was surrounded by inaccessible
precipices, and out of which there was no exit except by the entrance,
which was immediately barred by Henri, while Joe advanced to catch the
runaway.

For two hours at least did Joe Blunt essay to catch Charlie, and during
that space of time he utterly failed. The horse seemed to have made up
his mind for what is vulgarly termed "a lark."

"It won't do, Henri," said Joe, advancing towards his companion, and
wiping his forehead with the cuff of his leathern coat. "I can't catch
him. The wind's a-most blowed out o' me body."

"Dat am vexatiable," replied Henri, in a tone of commiseration. "S'pose
I wos make try?"

"In that case I s'pose ye would fail. But go ahead an' do what ye can.
I'll hold yer horse."

So Henri began by a rush and a flourish of legs and arms that nearly
frightened the horse out his wits. For half an hour he went through all
the complications of running and twisting of which he was capable,
without success, when Joe Blunt suddenly uttered a stentorian yell that
rooted him to the spot on which he stood.

To account for this, we must explain that in the heights of the Rocky
Mountains vast accumulations of snow take place among the crevices and
gorges during winter. Such of these masses as form on steep slopes are
loosened by occasional thaws, and are precipitated in the form of
avalanches into the valleys below, carrying trees and stones along with
them in their thundering descent. In the gloomy gorge where Dick's
horse had taken refuge, the precipices were so steep that many
avalanches had occurred, as was evident fr