urged faster than they otherwise would have been. The beautiful
snow is rather depressing, however, when there is snow everywhere. The
afternoon passed swiftly and the horses were becoming jaded. At four
o'clock it was almost dark. We had been going up a deep canon and came
upon an appalling sight. There had been a snow-slide and the canon was
half-filled with snow, rock, and broken trees. The whole way was
blocked, and what to do we didn't know, for the horses could hardly be
gotten along and we could not pass the snow-slide. We were twenty-five
miles from home, night was almost upon us, and we were almost starved.
But we were afraid to stay in that canon lest more snow should slide
and bury us, so sadly we turned back to find as comfortable a place as
we could to spend the night. The prospects were very discouraging, and
I am afraid we were all near tears, when suddenly there came upon the
cold air a clear blast from a horn. Mrs. Louderer cried, "Ach, der
reveille!" Once I heard a lecturer tell of climbing the Matterhorn and
the calls we heard brought his story to mind. No music could have been
so beautiful. It soon became apparent that we were being signaled; so
we drove in the direction of the sound and found ourselves going up a
wide canon. We had passed the mouth of it shortly before we had come to
the slide. Even the tired horses took new courage, and every few
moments a sweet, clear call put new heart into us. Soon we saw a light.
We had to drive very slowly and in places barely crept. The bugler
changed his notes and we knew he was wondering if we were coming, so
Mr. Stewart helloed. At once we had an answer, and after that we were
steadily guided by the horn. Many times we could not see the light, but
we drove in the right direction because we could hear the horn.

At last, when it was quite dark and the horses could go no farther, we
drew up before the fire that had been our beacon light. It was a
bonfire built out upon a point of rock at the end of the canon. Back
from it among the pines was a 'dobe house. A dried-up mummy of a man
advanced from the fire to meet us, explaining that he had seen us
through his field-glasses and, knowing about the snow-slide, had
ventured to attract us to his poor place. Carlota Juanita was within,
prepared for the _senoras_, if they would but walk in. If they would!
More dead than alive, we scrambled out, cold-stiffened and hungry.
Carlota Juanita threw open the low, wide door