aps he's one of your
friends."

"I reckon so, but sence he ain't makin' no signs he ain't got nuthin' to
tell. It wuz agreed that them that didn't know nuthin' wuz to keep it to
theirselves while we rode on until we come to them that did. It saves
time. Now he's gone, ain't he, colonel?"

"Yes, something has come in between."

"It's the first thin edge uv the mist. Them's clouds out thar in the
northwest, floatin' over the mountings. I'm sorry, colonel, but more
snow is comin'. The signs is too plain. Look through that gap an' see
what big brown clouds are sailin' up! They're just chock full uv
millions uv millions uv tons uv snow!"

"You know your own country and its winter ways, Mr. Reed. How long will
it be before the snow comes?"

"Lend me your glasses a minute, colonel."

He examined the clouds a long time through the powerful lenses, and when
he handed them back he replied:

"Them clouds are movin' up in a hurry, colonel. They hev saw us here
ridin' into the mountings, an' they want to pour their snow down on us
afore we git whar we want to go."

Colonel Winchester looked anxious.

"I don't like it," he said. "It doesn't suit cavalry to be plunging
around in snowdrifts."

"You're right, colonel. Deep snow is shorely hard on hosses. It looks
ez ef we'd be holed up. B'ars an' catamounts, how them clouds are
a-trottin' 'cross the sky! Here come the fust flakes an' they look ez
big ez feathers!"

The colonel's anxiety deepened, turning rapidly to alarm.

"You spoke of our being holed up, Mr. Reed, what did you mean by it?"
he asked.

"Shet in by the snow. But I know a place, colonel, that we kin reach,
an' whar we kin stay ef the snow gits too deep fur us. These mountings
are full uv little valleys an' coves. They say the Alleghanies run more
than a thousand miles one way an' mebbe three hundred or so another.
I reckon that when the Lord made 'em, an' looked at His job, he wondered
how He wuz goin' to hev people live in sech a mass uv mountings. Then He
took His fingers an' pressed 'em down into the ground lots an' lots uv
times, an' He made all sorts of purty valleys an' ravines through which
the rivers an' creeks an' branches could run, an' snug little coves in
which men could build thar cabins an' be sheltered by the big cliffs
above an' the forest hangin' on 'em. I reckon that He favored us up here,
'cause the mountings jest suit me. Nuthin' on earth could drive me out
uv 'em