t and clung to the rocks.
But even with all our caution we were toppled headlong at times, or
bowled over backward as the wind struck us.

It was after three in the morning when we reached Keyhole, the pass in
the knifelike ridge that separates bowlderfield from Glacier Gorge.
The wind forced up the slope from below tore through Keyhole like water
through a fire hose. One at a time we attempted to crawl through, but
it hurled us back. Together, each holding to his fellow, we braced
against the side walls, clung to little nubs on the floor, and edged
forward an inch at a time. Even so we were blown back like so much
chaff.

We dropped back down below Keyhole and, creeping beneath some rocks,
waited for daylight. No matter how far we crawled beneath the jumbled
slabs the wind found us out. We shivered, all huddled together for
warmth, and waited for dawn to light our way and to calm the hurricane.

At daybreak we managed to get through Keyhole and made our way to the
trough, where we separated, Cooper and Piltz following the trail to the
top while I descended the trough toward Glacier Gorge. We had agreed
to watch for silent signals, since it was impossible to hear even the
loudest calls more than a few feet.

In a little patch of sand not much larger than my hand, I discovered a
human footprint, with a dog's track imposed upon it. I wigwagged to my
companions, received their answering signal, and went on down the
trough, whistling to the dog and shouting his name though I could not
hope he would hear me above that gale. I searched beneath every likely
slab as I went.

Suddenly the dog appeared atop a huge rock. He howled in answer to my
call; the wind blew him off his post and he disappeared. I hastened
forward; then paused. What would I find beneath the rock? Resolutely
I started to crawl beneath it--and met Miss Broughm coming out. She
was cold, her lips were blue and cracked, but she had not given up
hopes or lost her courage. With her hair blowing like the frayed
remnants of a flag, she stood beside the bowlder and smiled a brave if
twisted smile. She was too cold to walk unaided, so as soon as the
others came up, we all supported her and started upon the return trip.
We reached the hotel between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning with
our lost lady still smiling wanly but rapidly recovering the use of her
limbs. She retired for a few hours and reappeared in time for
luncheon, little the wors