noticed a curious booming noise
in the direction of the mountains, which, continuing for a minute or
two, presently died out again. From my position close under the wall of
the Second Mesa, I could see nothing, and though it seemed to me to be a
peculiar and unusual sound, I concluded that it was only a storm
getting up; for, even at a distance of seven miles, we could often hear
the roaring of the wind in the pine-trees.

A quarter of an hour later, happening to look up the Sulphide road, I
was rather surprised to see a horseman coming down, riding very fast. He
was about a mile away when I first caught sight of him, and I could not
make out who he was, but presently, as I stood watching, a slight bend
in the road allowed the sunlight to fall upon the horse's side, when I
recognized the pinto. It was Joe coming home again.

I knew very well, of course, that he could not have been all the way to
Sulphide and back in so short a time, and my first thought was that the
spirited pony was running away with him; but as he approached I saw that
Joe was leaning forward in the saddle, rather urging forward his steed
than restraining him.

"What's up?" I thought to myself, as I stood leaning on my shovel. "Has
he forgotten something? He seems to be in a desperate hurry if he has:
Joe doesn't often push his horse like that. Something the matter, I'm
afraid."

There was a rather steep pitch where the road came down into our valley,
and it was a regular practice with us to descend this hill with some
caution. Here, at any rate, I expected Joe to slacken his pace; but when
I saw him come flying down at full gallop, where a false step by the
pony would endanger both their necks, I knew there was something the
matter, and flinging down my shovel, I ran to meet him.

"What is it, Joe?" I cried, as soon as he came within hearing.

Pulling in his pony, which, poor beast, stood trembling, with hanging
head and legs astraddle, the breath coming in blasts from its scarlet
nostrils, Joe leaped to the ground, crying:

"A snow-slide! A fearful great snow-slide! Right down on Peter's house!"

For a moment we stood gazing at each other in silence, when Joe,
speaking very rapidly, went on:

"We must get up there at once, Phil: we may be able to help Peter.
Though if he was in his house when the slide came down, I'm afraid we
can do nothing. His cabin must be buried five hundred feet deep, and the
heavy snow will pack like ice with its o