he north instead, and
go deeper into the mountains?" said Boyd.

"'Pears sound reasonin' to me."

"Then we'll do it."

"But we don't go fur, leastways not today. It wouldn't be more'n two or
three hours till night anyhow, an' see them clouds in thar to the south,
all thickenin' up. We're going to hev rain on the mountains, an' I think
we'd better make another wickiup, ez one o' them terrible sleets may
come on."

Boyd and Will agreed with him and a mile farther they found a place that
they considered suitable, an opening in which they would not be exposed
to any tree blown down by a blizzard, but with a heavy growth of short
pines near by, among which the horses and mules might find shelter.
Then the three worked with amazing speed, and by the time the full dark
had come the wickiup was done, the skins that they had brought with them
being stretched tightly over the poles. Then, munching their cold food,
they crawled in and coiled themselves about the walls, wrapped deep in
their blankets. Contrary to the Indian custom, they left the low door
open for air, and just when Will felt himself well disposed for the
night he heard the first patter of the sleet.

It was almost pitch dark in the wickiup, but, through the opening, he
could see the hail beating upon the earth in streams of white. The old
feeling of comfort and security in face of the wildest that the
wilderness had to offer returned to him. When they reached Clarke Valley
and built their wickiup he had one powerful friend, but now when the
Sioux were once more in pursuit, he had two. The Little Giant had made
upon him an ineffaceable impression of courage, skill and loyalty that
would stand any test.

"The hail's goin' to drive all through the night," Giant Tom called out
in the darkness.

"Right you are," said the hunter, "and the Sioux won't think of trying
that pass on such a night. They're back in the valley, in wickiups of
their own."

"Might it not stop them entirely?" asked Will.

"No, young William, it won't," said the Little Giant. "They'll come
through the pass tomorrow, knowin' thar's only one way by which we kin
go, an' then try to pick up our trail when the sleet melts. But tonight,
at least, nobody's goin' to find us."

They slept late the next morning, and when they crawled out of the
wickiup they found the sleet packed about an inch deep on the ground.
The horses and mules, protected by the pines, had not suffered much,
and, in order