o a gray-green valley, they saw a huge flock of sheep. Soon the
air was full of bleats and baas as well as the odor of sheep, and a
low, soft roar of pattering hoofs. The flock held a compact formation,
covering several acres, and grazed along rapidly. There were three
herders on horses and several pack-burros. Dale engaged one of the
Mexicans in conversation, and passed something to him, then pointed
northward and down along the trail. The Mexican grinned from ear to ear,
and Helen caught the quick "SI, SENOR! GRACIAS, SENOR!" It was a pretty
sight, that flock of sheep, as it rolled along like a rounded woolly
stream of grays and browns and here and there a black. They were keeping
to a trail over the flats. Dale headed into this trail and, if anything,
trotted a little faster.

Presently the clouds lifted and broke, showing blue sky and one streak
of sunshine. But the augury was without warrant. The wind increased. A
huge black pall bore down from the mountains and it brought rain that
could be seen falling in sheets from above and approaching like a
swiftly moving wall. Soon it enveloped the fugitives.

With head bowed, Helen rode along for what seemed ages in a cold, gray
rain that blew almost on a level. Finally the heavy downpour passed,
leaving a fine mist. The clouds scurried low and dark, hiding the
mountains altogether and making the gray, wet plain a dreary sight.
Helen's feet and knees were as wet as if she had waded in water. And
they were cold. Her gloves, too, had not been intended for rain, and
they were wet through. The cold bit at her fingers so that she had to
beat her hands together. Ranger misunderstood this to mean that he was
to trot faster, which event was worse for Helen than freezing.

She saw another black, scudding mass of clouds bearing down with its
trailing sheets of rain, and this one appeared streaked with white.
Snow! The wind was now piercingly cold. Helen's body kept warm, but
her extremities and ears began to suffer exceedingly. She gazed ahead
grimly. There was no help; she had to go on. Dale and Roy were hunched
down in their saddles, probably wet through, for they wore no rain-proof
coats. Bo kept close behind them, and plain it was that she felt the
cold.

This second storm was not so bad as the first, because there was less
rain. Still, the icy keenness of the wind bit into the marrow. It lasted
for an hour, during which the horses trotted on, trotted on. Again the
gray torr